


Peonies for Compassion on the Wizengamot Floor

by StoneAndRoses



Category: Harry Potter - J. K. Rowling
Genre: Alternate Universe - Canon Divergence, Angst, Enemies to Friends to Lovers, Eventual Smut, F/M, Flashbacks, Forced Marriage, Harry Potter Epilogue What Epilogue | EWE, Marriage Law Challenge, Pureblood Society (Harry Potter), Romance, Sexual Content, Swearing
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2020-11-04
Updated: 2021-03-05
Packaged: 2021-03-09 05:20:22
Rating: Mature
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 10
Words: 29,309
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/27389350
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/StoneAndRoses/pseuds/StoneAndRoses
Summary: Hermione tries to run away from the Ministry of Magic’s Marriage Law after being the it’s biggest opponent, but is caught. When she is brought in front of the Wizengamot for them to decide her fate, Draco Malfoy objects and enters into a Marriage Contract to save her from Azkaban.
Relationships: Hermione Granger/Draco Malfoy
Comments: 210
Kudos: 335





	1. Prologue

**Author's Note:**

> Welcome to my second long story!
> 
> This started as a drabble for the first round of the Dramione Last Drabble Writer Standing competition (run by the incomparable [In_Dreams](https://archiveofourown.org/users/In_Dreams/pseuds/In_Dreams/works?fandom_id=136512) & [Floorcoaster](https://archiveofourown.org/users/floorcoaster/pseuds/floorcoaster)) for the Peony/Compassion round. This competition honestly rescued my muse during quarantine, and I am extremely grateful for the jumpstart. I really liked what I had (even if it didn't do particularly well in voting, *shrug*) and there was so much more to the story than my 500 word limit. This story is going to be updated slowly. I’m applying to graduate school, working full time, and generally stressed due to current world events, but I’ve been sitting on this for a while so I want to put it out there in hopes somebody wants to read it and it will motivate me to write for it more consistently. 
> 
> This fic features frequent flashbacks, so _please_ pay attention to the dates at the beginning of the chapter, or any subsequent dates later on. The story will also be told using different moments - yes there are bigger pieces of plot to explain where we are - but it’s not going to be the most traditional story you’ve ever read.
> 
> I am a _sucker_ for marriage law fics, but have never attempted anything related to the trope that’s longer than a one-shot and I’m super excited about it! But since this is a marriage law fic, there can be arguments made on both sides all day long about consent. There will not be any non-con sexual situations in this fic (consent will be given, enthusiastically, by both parties), and I have tried my best to make Draco as gentlemanly as possible when consent and choice is concerned in general. However, if the concept of marriage law/forced marriage bothers you, maybe you should choose another story.
> 
> As always, Harry Potter does not belong to me, it belongs to JK Rowling (unfortunately), and I am not making any money off of this, just having fun imagining what would happen if things turned out differently.
> 
> This chapter is a short Prologue before we jump in! I've been writing with a playlist lately, so feel free to play the song for my writing mood if you'd like (I usually don't include this, but decided to go all in).

“Said a boy got it bad got it real bad  
Nobody need to tell him so  
He been working on a plan so long now  
He gonna leave this town for sure.”  
-"Boy Got it Bad" _KaiL Baxley_

**20 February, 2002**

“Hermione Granger, you stand accused of evading arrest, fleeing the country, and ignoring the Ministry’s mandate to marry. Today this council will decide your fate…” boomed Kingsley’s voice throughout the Wizengamot chambers. 

They had won four years ago, but it didn’t feel like it. Harry had cleared out the Potter and Black vaults and moved to the middle of nowhere in America. Ron couldn’t handle her schedule or commitment to her Ancient Runes Mastery, leaving her for Lavender Brown. The Golden Trio had slowly dissolved into obscurity.

And nothing had _actually_ changed. 

Blood prejudice ran rampant, just behind closed doors, hushed in smoking rooms and gentlemens clubs. The old families who fought for Voldemort had not lost any of their previous standing and their coffers were still overflowing despite the small reparations taken from them. The heads of those families made up the majority of the eyes staring down at her and they were surely going to throw the book at her.

Hermione had been livid when the law had been announced. It was a way of continuing to make the Sacred Twenty-Eight look better, while increasing the population, and gaining control. She had battled the law with the full capacity of her lungs but that hadn’t been enough. 

Her real mistake was thinking she wouldn’t get caught or that they didn’t care enough and would let her go. She initially hid with Viktor in Bulgaria, faking an engagement. However, when the aurors came knocking and she wasn’t there, it was clear she was fleeing.

“Unless anyone has any objections,” continued Kingsley, pulling her attention back, “We will begin our debate on punishment.” Kingsley paused, an air of calm covering the chamber. “Speak now or forever hold your peace.”

Godric, she was running from marriage but the phrase had still snuck into her life. 

Just when she thought they would move on to discuss how long she would decay in Azkaban, someone stood in on the left towards the back of the congregation.

“The Malfoy family objects. I will enter into a marriage contract with Miss Granger, nullifying this entire hearing.”

Her jaw dropped at the declaration. Draco Malfoy, head of the Malfoy family now that Lucius had passed, was going to marry a Muggleborn fugitive. _Voluntarily_. What was his end game? Did he pity her? Was it some twisted sense of righteousness or compassion?

“Objections?” asked Kingsley, clearly surprised. 

She almost laughed. Like hell anyone else would volunteer. They didn’t _actually_ want to throw the Golden Girl in jail, but would have made an example of her if necessary. This was the best of both worlds for all parties, except maybe her, involved. 

“All those in favor of Lord Malfoy’s marriage proposal in place of Wizengamot sentencing?”

Every single hand raised in the room.

“Motion passed. This session is dismissed.” 

The bang of the gavel felt incredibly permanent.


	2. I Fought the Law and Nobody Won

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Welcome to our first flashback! This all takes place prior to the Prologue and after this chapter we'll jump around, so mind the dates!
> 
> Disclaimer: this is a work of fan fiction and I do not own the source material and no copyright infringement is intended.

“Young blood, run like a river  
Young blood, never get chained  
Young blood, heaven need a sinner  
You can’t raise hell with a saint  
Young blood, came to start a riot  
Don’t care what your old man say  
Young blood, heaven hate a sinner  
But we gonna raise hell anyway”  
“Raise Hell,” _Dorothy_

**1 January, 2002**

_By Decree of the Minister for Magic in Conjunction with the Wizengamot, the Magical Marriage and Families Act will go into Effect on the Second of January, in the Year Two Thousand and Two._

_This law requires witches and wizards of eligible age and health to marry by the First of June. See appendix for eligibility rules and qualifying marriages. Although the Ministry will not interfere in matches, it is strongly encouraged that citizens mix across social status, blood status, country of origin, etc._

_Following the marriage, couples must begin to attempt to produce magical children. If within two years no magical children are born, the couple can choose to dissolve their union and remarry, or adopt. Health checks are free to participants in the program, and are available at St Mungos by appointment._

_Applications for marriage licenses are now available on the fifth floor of the Ministry of Magic or by owl. Couples may also apply for financial assistance in any component of the marriage ceremony including, but not limited to: rings, contract negotiation, venue reservation, dress robes, and flowers. A Ministry official will be provided as an officiant upon request._

_Anyone found to be avoiding the law by moving abroad or stepping back from the public will be arrested and prosecuted in front of the esteemed Wizengamot. The minimum sentence involves time in Azkaban if you are convicted._

_Do your part to help keep the British Wizarding World thriving. Build strong, magical families._

It all was so… clinical. And completely insane. She half expected to see World War-era propaganda appearing around Diagon Alley. 

Hermione Granger was not the type of witch to wax poetic about true love and all that rot, but this law was ludicrous. Forcing witches and wizards to join in alliances felt incredibly archaic. She was sure that the pureblood families were behind it. They lived like it was Victorian England still hosting balls, wearing frock coats, and signing marriage contracts.

True, the birth rate was sliding some, but not to dangerous levels according to her independent research. Surely the “data” from the Department of Mysteries had been altered slightly? Or they weren’t presenting all of it. 

What the old families needed was a way to continue their traditions while appearing to integrate into ‘modern’ society. It also allowed them to hand-pick their brides and maintain a ‘superior’ blood status. How was she seemingly the only one outraged by the law? Many of her classmates didn’t see anything wrong with it. The propaganda and media coverage was convincing everyone it was for the benefit of the community. How did nobody see the connections between the arguments from the Wizengamot now and those of the Dark Lord? Magical folk above all else; except now it _kind of_ includes half bloods and muggleborns.

Undoubtedly all of the negotiations for this law were done in private Wizards clubs, behind closed doors, and over tea at manors. Negotiations that half-bloods and muggle borns were shut out of. She had fought hard for a seat on the Wizengamot, but she was unable to get the ten bloody references needed, and she was unable to find any relatives with magical blood. It was utter shite. 

Godric, she wished Harry was still here. Thus far she had resisted writing to him. 

Although they had managed a system to keep him isolated, she didn’t want him to come home before he was ready. The recovery process looked different for everyone following the war, and Harry’s was still far from over. Hermione also didn’t know what to tell him. That the Ministry hadn’t changed at all. That she still had no status despite (or maybe because) she had defeated the Dark Lord? That she was going to be forced to get married, likely to a bigot, stunting her career if she was lucky, ruining her way of life if she wasn’t.

She would wait until she successfully defeated the law. But first, she needed to find an ally.

**6 January, 2002**

“Sorry Miss Granger, good luck,” finished yet another Department Head as she was pushed out of an office, the door slamming behind her.

Allies turned out to be much more difficult to come by than she expected. Hermione was due to speak in front of the Wizengamot during the ‘concerned public’ portion. This section of hearings was notorious for being required by law, but not executed to the fullest extent. Unfortunately, she’d likely be the only one participating.

She crossed her last name off the list. Most had just not let her in their office. The Department of Mysteries claimed they would speak to her, but off the record, and they could not be part of any Wizengamot hearing. Which is preposterous given that their department did the bulk of the research now being used to justify the law. 

Hermione’s last ditch effort would be attempting to persuade somebody, _anybody_ that would listen, that this was a horrible idea. Maybe she could flip one member who could in turn flip others. Maybe Augusta would finally be terrified of Neville being married off. Or she could try to convince the elder Parkinson that Pansy would surely get stuck with an undeserving half-blood, who didn’t have the magical prowess to take care of her. 

Her speech had every type of appeal: emotional, logical, historical, even an appeal to her celebrity. But she was worried that nobody would listen to her. Kingsley promised to give her the floor no matter what. That was the only favor she was able to call in. He claimed his ‘hands were tied.’

The hearing was tomorrow and she had been walking up and down the Ministry all week. Throwing her elbows around, making her presence known, taking up space. And she had nothing to show for it. It was S.P.E.W. all over again. Except this time, she would be forcibly married and become a broodmare because of her lack of results. 

**7 January, 2002**

She could already see that nobody was going to listen to her. Half of the Purebloods weren’t even looking at her. Sure, Augusta Longbottom had nodded along as she spoke, but the vast majority had let it go in one ear and out the other. She was fairly certain that Roger Davies’ grandmother was knitting. It was clear to her that this was a sham of a hearing. She would surely be giving Kingsley an earful. 

They were daydreaming, off in their own worlds. If only she had been able to get their attention she might have actually persuaded some of them. 

Hermione’s outline was immaculate. She cited the inconclusive, and frankly lacking, data points that they were using as justification. She pointed out that the last marriage law had been in the 1700s, and it had gone terribly. That was one of the true causes of all the inbreeding among the old families, which she believed was the root of the infertility problem. Why would wizarding Britain want to repeat terribly thought out decisions that had led to the current problem? 

She had stopped speaking exactly at her time limit. That had been three minutes ago. Now she stood, waiting for anyone to respond. Finally Hyperion Greengrass stood to acknowledge her.

“Although we appreciate your… candor Miss Granger, I’m afraid that this governing body cannot agree with you,” said Lord Greengrass with the faintest hint of a smirk on his face. 

“Lord Greengrass, I appreciate you letting me speak my piece today, and I urge you to reconsider. This is a barbaric law, and you know it.”

“I don’t think it’s barbaric, and neither does this governing body. If it was truly as awful as you claim, you’d surely have found others that agree with you,” he retorted. 

She rolled her eyes, “Just because the vast majority of the population has been brainwashed by your generation to believe we’re still in a forgotten era that muggles left behind centuries ago, doesn’t mean that this law is a way for wizarding elites like yourself to grasp control over the narrative. If I were Daphne or Astoria, I’d be ashamed of what I’ve heard from your office regarding the law.”

His smirk disappeared and pointed at her, “You are out of bounds Miss Granger. You should speak with respect to your elders.”

“With all due _respect_ sir, when my elders are making a decision that is going to devastate my life, and the lives of my peers, and generations to come, sometimes you need to be a little vocal.” She smiled as sweetly as she could, “And since we apparently still live in archaic times, it must be shocking to you that a woman has an opinion, but I don’t see you clutching your pearls.”

Gasps shot around the room, although she did hear Andromeda Tonks snort off to her left. 

“Hermione,” sighed Kingsley, banging his gavel. “I unfortunately must find you in contempt of court for disrespecting a member of the Wizengamot. Do you have someone who can escort you home?”

“No sir. Didn’t you hear, I’m just a liberal spinster and kneazle lady who doesn’t have a wizard to protect her,” she bit out, hoping that the sarcasm was dripping off the podium at this point.

Kingsley sighed, “Well then, I must place you in a holding cell overnight to think about your actions.”

“Fine,” she said, turning her nose up, “And you better look me straight in the eyes while you do it.”

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I'm excited about the positive response for this story so far! I'll have a few regular updates here in the next few weeks (because all I could focus on in the chaos that was the US last week was writing this story apparently) and then they may get more sporadic, we'll see :)
> 
> Also - this story is un beta'd so if you see any big mistakes that I missed while editing, please let me know!


	3. Welcome to Malfoy Manor

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> These characters don't belong to me, I'm just playing with them in my head. No copyright infringement is intended here!

“The world leaves a bitter taste in my mouth, girl  
You’re the only one that I wanna be around”  
“Coming Home” by _Leon Bridges_

**21 February, 2002**

Hermione’s feet had stuck to the spot when the gavel came down. Luckily Malfoy had rushed from his spot in the gallery and grabbed her elbow, pulling her out of the chamber before anyone could approach them. He led her to the elevators, and before she knew it they were on their way to the floo upstairs. 

“I’m going to assume you no longer have residence in the UK?” he asked, pulling Hermione out of her shock. 

“You would be correct.”

He sighed, “The best I can offer right now is the Manor. My townhouse will be swamped with press. Since it’s in London, there’s only so much protective warding space. And with the contract, we’ll likely have to live in the Manor for a time since I’ll officially fully inherit. Are you okay with that?”

“I-uh-I should be fine, it’s not like I have a lot of other options right now,” she said, finally looking at him. 

He smirked, “I promise the Manor is much better than Azkaban… or at least it is now.”

She laughed a single time with little humor, but hoped that he was correct. As the elevator took off, she appraised the man that would supposedly become her husband. 

Draco Malfoy the young man looked very different from Draco Malfoy the boy that had tormented her in school. He was tall as he had appeared when he made his speech in the Wizengamot, but now he slouched slightly. His features were much sharper than she remembered. He had always been a boy of many angles when they were younger, but they seemed even more prominent now. The mask of indifference from the hearing was gone. If Hermione had to identify the emotions on his face, she would suggest relief, but also skepticism maybe nervousness. The expression didn’t quite match his eyes either. He was staring lasers at something unseen to Hermione on the floor in front of his shoes. 

Clearly they were made of Italian leather, and complimented his Wizengamot robes perfectly. She could see what she assumed was a bespoke suit poking through the closure of his robes. As she stared, Draco’s hands began to fidget, unbuttoning the robes. The anxious energy was beginning to fill the elevator when he finally caught her staring at him. 

“I promise we’ve redone the drawing room, and you won’t go into that part of the house anyway. Mother generally sticks to the opposite wing now,” blurted Malfoy. He went to put the robes around her shoulders. “Here, cover up with this. This is one instance where our height difference will be helpful. I assume that there will be lots of press waiting in the lobby. Undoubtedly someone at the hearing has already leaked the information. You can tuck into my side as we walk to the floo. If they don’t get a good shot of you, the focus will be on me instead.”

She just nodded, unsure what to say about the pile of word vomit that now sat between them on the elevator floor. Hermione suspected her body was trying to revolt… or restart. The last week spent in the bowels of the Ministry, sitting in a cell, with limited human interaction had caused most of her brain to shut down. There were only so many formulas she could repeat in her head before she was bored again. Hermione was famous for her brain, but now it needed a spark. 

Maybe running to the floo, avoiding photographers and what could be a mob of witches and wizards with someone who she barely knew and would be marrying soon could provide the spark to get her brain back on all cylinders. 

He finished buckling the cloak, setting it as well as he could on her shoulders. “Alright, Granger. Let’s do this,” announced Malfoy.

She willingly turned into his side and shut her eyes. Hermione did not want to add fire to the flames of _The Daily Prophet_ , likely already running wild and publishing salacious stories, and decided the need to hide in his cape was necessary. 

With a ding, the door slid open and a small roar began to move towards them. As flashes began to go off, Hermione turned her face farther into Malfoy’s suit. His hand came to rest on her temple, effectively blocking what little of her face was showing. Malfoy didn’t say anything as they walked at a brisk pace. While hiding and being guided through the lobby, Hermione noticed a few things. 

One, her brain had in fact turned back on because, two, she was wondering why she had not seen any of the Weasleys. She didn’t hear any of their voices now, she hadn’t seen any of them while she was locked away, Percy hadn’t spoken at the hearing, and Hermione was reminded how deep her break with the family had been. Three, Draco Malfoy smelled exactly how she pictured a well-to-do Pureblood bachelor did, with one exception. There was a hint of bergamot and spice, but there was also an incredibly strong floral scent. She was expecting an extremely masculine, punch you in the face scent, but she was surprised by the lightness. 

The whirling of the floo began faster than Hermione expected, and when her head finally stopped spinning, she took a deep breath before promptly emptying her stomach on the very same Italian shoes she had been scrutinizing a few minutes ago. 

\--------

An hour or so later she found herself laying on what would be “her” bed at the Manor. Malfoy had spoken truthfully - the residence was unrecognizable to the last time she had been there. What had been dark and dingy stone, now seemed light and airy. 

Unfortunately Narcissa had witnessed her vomiting spell and insisted she immediately sit for some tea in the solarium. From there the anxious hostess had left to “check on her room.” Obviously a diversion of more nervous energy, as she clearly could have had one of the many elves check up on the task. 

That left Draco and Hermione sitting awkwardly with each other sipping tea. She had wanted to ask a million questions but none of them would cross the threshold of her lips. Why me? Why now? Why did you bully me? Why do you now find me acceptable? Do you think my blood is still filthy? How badly did Voldemort fuck with your mind? Do I have to call you Lord Malfoy? How big is your penis and do you know how to use it? What do I get out of this? Do you or will you have a mistress? Couldn’t you have just let me rot in Azkaban to make my point stick? 

But none of the answers, or the questions really, would have satisfied her at that moment. So instead she planned to skulk in her room like a teenager and wrap her mind around what was going to happen. Neither of them spoke until Narcissa came back to declare her room was ready and Draco had led her there, informing her of the meal times for dinner and breakfast.

She, Hermione Granger, would shortly become Lady Malfoy, becoming the first muggleborn matriarch of the remaining “sacred” wizarding houses (of course everyone forgets Potter was once one of those, and Lily Potter was really the first, but that’s besides the point). This was happening because of a law that she couldn’t stop. She had no idea what type of control her aristocratic husband would subject her to. She barely knew him. 

The last consistent experience Hermione had with Draco Malfoy was their eighth, “make up” year at Hogwarts. Harry and Ron had decided not to attend, so she had mostly kept to herself. Malfoy did as well, as one of the few Sacred 28 to return for the extra year. However, Ancient Runes had been unavoidable because they were the only two students to sign up from their year. They had been partners in practice, but mostly just in name. She remembered Draco at that point in his life as quiet and intelligent, but cold and not wanting to let anyone in. They had worked efficiently together and passed the class with flying colors despite the fact that they mostly divided the work and checked each other's answers independently.

Luckily she wouldn’t have to deal with Lucius. He had passed in the last year or two, she honestly couldn’t remember when it had been announced in _The Prophet_. The stress of the war had gotten to him, and apparently he had never recovered from the extended dementor exposure in Azkaban. 

The fanaticism of the house seemed to have burnt out with his death, or at least that was the rumor going around. Hermione would likely need to assess it for herself. This proposal and contract was either a ploy to make themselves look even better, in which case both Malfoys could still be raging bigots, or they genuinely wanted to help her, in which case she decided they likely weren’t prejudiced anymore. Hermione wasn’t sure which possibility would be more difficult for her to reckon with. 

She supposed she also had a lot of inner reckoning to do. Could Hermione actually bring herself to dive into Pureblood society? Or would she constantly reject it and fight tooth and nail the rest of her or the law’s life? Hopefully she could find a happy medium if this sham of a marriage were actually to happen. 

**22 February, 2002**

Breakfast was going to be uncomfortable. She was not looking forward to it, but was starving. After laying on the bed, she had fallen asleep, missing dinner, and waking up to a bowl of stew and some crusty bread left by an elf in her room. Her stomach had still been embroiled by anxious waves and she hadn’t eaten, sending the food back to the kitchens. 

But now her stomach was growling as loudly as her old house’s mascot could. 

Draco had mentioned that Narcissa was an early riser and often wasn’t present at the breakfast table. She only hoped that she might avoid him as well as she didn’t particularly know what to say to him yet. 

Upon winding her way down to the informal dining room (the formal versus informal rooms was something that would take some getting used to), she found that she wouldn’t be so lucky. The heir of the Malfoy fortune was sitting at the head of the table, sipping tea and stirring a steaming bowl of oatmeal. 

“Good morning,” he whispered as she took the seat to his right. 

She nodded, reaching to pour herself some tea. 

“You’d like honey to mix in, correct?” he said, handing her the small pot and spoon. 

“Yes…” she replied hesitantly with a questioning look. 

He smirked, “In my misguided youth I did a lot of glaring at Potter across the Great Hall. Which also means that for eight years I watched you all make tea. I also know that Weasley drowns his in sugar and Potter will drink it plain because he prefers coffee.”

“You’re a lot more observant than the boys gave you credit for,” she said smiling as she stirred. 

“But you knew?” he questioned. 

She laughed, “Well, maybe I didn’t know you were observant enough to make my tea, but I knew you paid attention and that you were smart. Especially in Potions. Even Snape being your godfather and favoring your house wouldn’t have given you the second best grade in the class. And you kept being good with Slughorn teaching, which is a feat in and of itself.”

He nodded, picking up his spoon and the morning edition of _The Prophet_. 

“How's the damage?” she asked after a beat, giving him a minute or two to scan the front page. 

“As expected,” he said, turning the paper around. 

**Malfoy Heir Continues Charity Streak, To Enter Marriage Contract with Former Fugitive Hermione Granger** screamed at her above a photo of her tucked into his side. Hermione was completely dwarfed against Draco’s air of confidence as he shielded her face and held his arm forward to create a path. His shoulders were set and his face depicted the 

“Well at least I’m a _former_ fugitive, not still considered public enemy number one.”

He scoffed over his teacup, “Of course not. Since I implied there was already an existing contract we would have you sign, you essentially became a Malfoy for all intents and purposes as soon as I spoke up at the hearing. Even though it's hippogriff shit, everyone except you, me, and my mother believes it, and that’s what matters. Mother would flay anyone who speaks poorly of, or in a negative way towards a Malfoy and that extends to you now.”

“I’ll have to thank her in advance before she has to do it at some point. I’m sure Skeeter will have something nasty to say about me shortly, she always has.” Hermione could feel her temperature climbing just at the thought. 

“I don’t think so, actually,” he said quietly in between bites. “She hasn’t gone after the family in quite some time. It likely has something to do with our partial ownership of the publication.”

“You own _The Daily Prophet_??” she practically shrieked.

“Only partially,” he smirked. “Not enough to completely control publication, or anything nefarious like that. But enough to make them wary of angering us lest we pull funding.”

She muttered about being filthy rich into her pancakes, which in and of themselves were another aristocratic benefit. Getting anything you wanted for breakfast without doing as much as blinking. 

“You’re about to be filthy rich too,” he said quietly. “If you want to be. But custom and contract do dictate some sharing of vaults. I completely understand if you want to keep your own, but we should probably hide it in a Muggle bank or something to ensure the Ministry doesn’t ask too many questions-” he cut off after looking at her. “Why are you staring at me like I’m a cerberus?”

“Because you are very different from what I was expecting,” she said simply. 

“I’d hope so,” he said lightly. “I know we’ll have to talk about it in depth eventually, Granger. I’ll give you the full story if you want, but I think we should let everything settle in for a day or two. Rest assured that neither I nor my mother are blood purists, anymore at least, and we are both looking forward to you being the best addition to the Malfoy family for centuries. I know you probably aren’t completely convinced and you surely have thousands of questions to ask me, but let’s at least go for a walk in the gardens first.”

“Not the library?” she asked wrly. 

“Seems a little cliche for my tastes. I know you have half of one in your infamous beaded bag, and I know that you’ll get curious and find it on your own. Or my mother will relish in showing it to you, she’s a little desperate to start a Mother-in-Law, Daughter-in-Law bond, but don’t tell her I said that.”

Hermione did the only thing she could at the moment and laughed. “Alright, let’s see these impressive gardens of yours. I’ve heard there are peacocks.”

He snorted, “Not anymore, we got rid of them a few years ago. Stupidest bloody things. Do you still have my cloak? Do you have your own? The hedge maze is temperature controlled but nothing else is.”

“Of course it bloody is,” she mumbled, finding herself being led around by Draco Malfoy for the second time in twenty-four hours without any protest.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I hope you enjoyed our first "up close" look at the Malfoys. 
> 
> I really appreciate all the positive responses I've gotten to this fic and I hope to keep it going smoothly!


	4. On the Run

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Another flashback this week so heed the dates! The chapter picks up right after her "hearing" at the Wizengamot and goes from there.

“I know what I wanna do  
Wanna run away, run away with you  
Gonna grab clothes, six in the morning, go”  
\- Ed Sheeran, _Runaway_

**7 January, 2002**

“Did you really need to do that?”

She smiled petulantly, “You already know the answer to that, Kings.”

Kingsley stared at her from the bench across from her cell, deep in the bowels of the Ministry. 

“Don’t do anything stupid, I can already see your brain working on a plan.”

“Some favor that was,” she said, ignoring his warning. “That wasn’t a hearing, that was a publicity stunt. That was puppet politics. The Wizengamot has no plan to change their mind. I can’t believe you’re supporting this. _The Prophet_ is surely going to cast me out as a crazed muggleborn who doesn’t know her place tomorrow, all but sealing public support.”

He sighed again, something he had been doing a lot of today, “I have no choice, the population-”

“That’s dragon dung. I ran the numbers myself, they’re not that dire. Percentage wise, it’s nothing compared to the first World War, or America’s Civil War, in the muggle world. Why are you supporting it?”

“Because-”

“I’ll tell you why,” she said looking up at him, “Sorry, that was rude of me, but I already know the answer. You want to keep your job. If you don’t go along with this, Hyperion would have your job in a matter of months. I’d like to say I understand, but I truly don’t. You’re about to force so many witches and wizards into a life they don’t want. You made difficult decisions after the War, Kingley, you can do it again.”

“It will benefit everyone.” So they were going to just keep talking past each other.

She shook her head, “Maybe in one hundred years. But it will mostly help the Pureblood families repair their reputations faster than they already are. You sound like a dictator.”

Kingsley chuckled, “This is why you never made it in the Ministry, you can’t play the game.”

“I refuse to play the game, there’s a difference. I can play it if I wanted to,” spat Hermione. “But I shouldn’t have to, we should govern and make decisions rationally. Leave me alone Kings. I don’t think I can continue this conversation.”

As he stood and began to leave, Kingsley turned back to her, “You know Hermione, I’d expect that marrying someone sooner rather than later would be in your best interest. It would help you not completely destroy what reputation you have left. You’ll be released in the morning so you can continue to think about your actions, or something like that. Oh, and please, _please_ , don’t try to leave the country for Merlin’s sake.”

**11 January, 2002**

She left the country. 

The Ministry had left her overnight to her own devices and luckily she had her journal with her. Hermione spent the night planning her escape in a way that would give her lead time in case they decided to send the Aurors after her. She hoped they would just give up. Let her finish her life in obscurity abroad doing contract work in Arithmancy.

As soon as she was home she had owled Viktor asking to stay with him and was in Bulgaria the following day. She hadn’t been able to get a hold of a portkey, but the purebloods were so blind that they didn’t think she would book muggle airline tickets. Viktor was glad to see her, but was aware of the news in Britain. But he was, rightfully so, keeping his nose out of it. 

Hermione felt bad that she had involved him by the nature of her visit, but he had recently broken up with his longtime girlfriend and seemed to be happy to have her in residence, if not in his bedroom. Although Hermione had been resolved that she wouldn’t fall into bed and ignite old flames, that’s exactly what happened. 

Her little white lie habit was getting significantly worse, come to think of it. Maybe she was leaning into her Slytherin tendencies a little too much lately. She had told Viktor it was a temporary stay until the law blew over, but she knew that was unlikely. She needed time to see what the Ministry would do. Hopefully she’d have an answer by the end of the month.

“Come back to bed, Hermy-own.”

She shook her head, he mostly said her name correctly, but he had to think really hard about it. So during and after sex, he resorted to his old ways. 

“One second,” she said holding up her pointer finger. She lifted her glass and downed the half finger of whiskey that was left in the tumbler. Hermione was draped in one of his numerous jerseys that covered most of the important stuff, but she knew that it drove him up the wall to see her with his name across the back.

“I’ve never seen you quite this… enthusiastic?” said Viktor, reaching his large quidditch hands to her arse. 

She laughed, “Well, I’ve lost a little bit of my reservations. I’ve got little to lose now.”

Viktor grabbed her with his other hand and pulled him up so she could wrap her legs around his waist. “I’m not complaining _Mila_ , it’s good to see you without all the stress fogging your brain.”

Showing off his strength he trudged up the circular staircase, carrying her as if he had cast a featherweight charm. Viktor could have easily thrown her on the couch and had his way with her, but he apparently wanted more comfort in his palatial bed. 

Hermione drank in Viktor’s passion into the early morning hours, drowning in orgasms and muscles. However, she knew it likely wouldn’t last. One of them would burst their bubble, and she was hoping it wouldn’t have to be her. 

**20 January, 2002**

Spoiler: It had been her.

“You can’t leave, Hermione. I won’t allow it.”

“Viktor,” she sighed, “It’s not good for you if I stay here. The Ministry knows I’m here and they’ll come looking for me. Even though you’re not a British citizen, they’ll still try to do something to you, I’m sure of it.”

He stayed quiet a moment, pensive just looking at her.

“Then say yes to my proposal,” he said shrugging. 

“You and I _both_ don’t actually want that,” she said looking him down. 

He sighed, “But it would be better than you being on the run.”

“But it would also be letting them win.”

She could see Viktor was starting to get angry with her. “But this is a game that you are playing with your life. Not a Quidditch match. Who cares if they win as long as they can’t throw you in that awful prison? We are good friends Mila, and we have excellent chemistry.” She snorted. 

Of course they had excellent chemistry, the man belonged on the cover of a witch’s magazine and relished in giving oral sex. 

“Yes, we do have good chemistry, and I’m sure that we would live a long and happy life together. But I would still constantly be looking over my shoulder and feeling shame that I kept you from finding true happiness with the witch who’s actually meant for you. I’m not built to be a Quidditch player’s wife.”

Hermione had experienced plenty of celebrity in her short lifetime, thank you very much. It had driven her best friend to another continent and it had caused a seemingly irreparable rift with another. She wanted to be an afterthought, a short sentence on the inner pages of the paper when they covered one of the frequent balls. She didn’t want to be hounded by paparazzi for a few years before retiring to a castle in who knows where Bulgaria. 

“Then just let me start a rumor that we’re engaged, that we plan to marry. It will give you more time. My mother will know the truth, but her friends won’t, they’ve still got the loose lips of Quidditch wives.”

“The Ministry will be here any day regardless of whether or not we say we’re engaged. They’ll want to know if it’s real and then they’d force our hand. I’m not going to shackle you to me for the rest of your life because I decided to run away from my own fears and country.”

The tears had started to sneak down her face at this point. 

His arms surrounded her, providing comfort, but she still couldn’t do it. 

“If there hadn’t been a war. If there hadn’t been all those difficulties, I think things could have ended differently, Mila. And some days I wish we lived in a different universe where we were happy together.” 

She looked up at him, “Me too. I wish I had come to Bulgaria that summer. I wish we had spent more time together. I wish I had been your English tutor. I wish for many things. But I don’t wish for this. I can’t marry you, not like this.”

Viktor gently placed his fingers under her chin, drawing her lips to his. The kiss was certainly a goodbye, but it still had some passion to it. 

“Come find me when you’re ready,” he said. 

“If this all turns out well, we won’t need to get married,” she said. “We can just live in sin.”

“Or you can find me after you divorce the rich pureblood husband they make you marry,” he said with a chuckle. 

“Let’s hope it doesn’t come to that.”

**5 February**

Hermione was already sick of the sight of her Morgana-forsaken tent again. She really should have burned it the day after Tom had been defeated and replaced it. 

After her and Viktor’s goodbye, she had apparated to a remote forest nearby, waiting for word that the Ministry had come and gone, leaving Viktor out of it. She wanted to make sure that they knew she was in the wind before she had to completely fall off the grid. If they took him into custody (completely illegally, on foreign soil) she would turn herself in. 

Upon receiving his owl, she had left for Switzerland. The charms she placed around the first camp alerted her that they were tracking her apparition just as she hoped. Despite the fact that she had taken an airplane to Bulgaria, the aurors hadn’t thought that she would start using trains and hitchhiking. They had managed to follow her from Plovdiv to Budapest, but after she boarded the train she had seen no sign of them.

The quaint area outside of Bern had held her interest for a few days and allowed her to stock up on supplies before moving again. Even if she hadn’t _seen_ any signs of aurors, that didn’t mean they weren’t on her trail. From there she had hitchhiked to Geneva and then Lyon, staying in hostels for a night or two. 

Now she found herself on the outskirts of a vineyard and farm in the Côtes de Rhône region away from the city. The cover wasn’t as good as a forest, but she was far from a town and was hoping she could stay here for more than a few nights. 

The muggle-repelling charms were holding well because after she set up her tent she watched a worker drive by inspecting the fields as they went. They looked straight past her and her camp not stopping or hesitating at all. 

Her exhaustion set in quickly once she had finished readying everything for the evening, digging into a baguette and some cheese. She poured herself a glass of wine hoping that it would put her out. The last few nights had involved building lakes with tears on the canvas floor and she was hoping that the wine would act as a temporary dam. 

Hermione had underestimated the loneliness of being on the run and a part of her was beginning to regret not taking Viktor up on his offer. But if it began to eat away at her too much, she could likely make her way back to him. The Ministry just wanted her married, so what if she got cold feet for a while before it happened?

Once she had drained a good portion of the bottle she settled into her sleeping bag and allowed most of her body to unclench even though her muscles still twitched from her seventh year at Hogwarts. To avoid screaming nightmares and making the situation even worse, she placed one drop of Dreamless Sleep below her tongue and gave into a long night.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Sweet, sweet Viktor! I hate doing this to him (I've become a softie for Vikmione lately, and if you're a firm Dramione stand, may I selfishly suggest my Draco/Hermione/Viktor triad that I wrote for Kinktober this year called _I Only Sleep with Quidditch Players_ ). But it's part of the story and I promise we'll get back to more Malfoy action soon. 
> 
> Fair warning - this is the last full chapter I have written. I need to finish a fest fic and it's holiday time here in the US so it'll probably be a little bit before the next chapter is up. 
> 
> Happy Holidays to those who are celebrating, and I hope everyone is staying safe! I am very thankful for the continued support and kind words about this fic!


	5. The Almost Former Lady Malfoy

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> We're flashing forward again for more Malfoy action today. Enjoy!

“My persuasion can build a nation  
Endless power, with our love we can devour  
You'll do anything for me”  
“Run the World (Girls)” _Beyonce_

**23 February, 2002**

“Miss Granger, I’m so glad you could join me today for tea.”

Hermione smirked, she didn’t exactly have a choice. Yesterday had been spent wandering around the gardens with Draco, making small talk, and learning some of the basics about each other. Like the completely not shocking fact that his favorite color was green, or the more surprising realization that he had a passion for herbology as well as potions and did much of the work on the garden himself. That had all been her choice essentially. But the meeting with Narcissa was all but mandatory, much like her residence at Malfoy Manor and her involvement with the Malfoys.

Sure, she could leave whenever she liked, but her mind, body, and heart had finally all agreed that the current arrangement was best… for now. She’d continue to fight behind the scenes while staying safe with the Malfoys. And unless she saw any major flags she’d enter into a marriage in name only with Draco. At least until the law could get repealed. But she hoped that they could get away with delaying a ceremony.

“Of course, Lady Malfoy, I’m happy to get to know you properly.”

Narcissa tutted as she set her cup down on the saucer without any noise. 

“Please, call me Narcissa, I won’t be Lady Malfoy for that much longer and it’s much too formal anyways.”

“You must call me Hermione then.”

“Splendid,” smiled the older witch. 

Narcissa reminded Hermione of the Queen from _Princess Diaries_ a little bit. Her posture was perfect, her outfits beyond reproach, she was deliberate in her hosting duties, and seemed to always know what to say. The analogy was fitting for her as well, she was a bushy-haired girl turned princess, well Lady of an elite house, overnight. Hopefully Narcissa would be as deft a mentor as Julie Andrews. 

“First,” she said briskly pulling Hermione out of a DVD driven fantasy. “I must apologize for the ghastly actions of my own sister in my home during the war. I genuinely wish I had a time turner so that I could rectify the situation. My husband should have done more, I should have done more. It has been a long time since I believed that you and other non-pureblood witches and wizards are below my family. You are being brought into this family very joyously.”

Hermione didn’t see any signs on Narcissa’s face to suggest that she was not being truthful. However, it was extremely unlikely that the family didn’t have at least some experience with Occlumency to get through a war with a megalomaniac, who was also an expert in legilimency, occupying their home. 

“I can tell that you’re not sure if I’m being completely truthful, and I don’t blame you Miss Gr- Hermione.” Maybe Narcissa also had some legilimency tucked in her back robe pocket. “I will leave the final judgement to you, but I know that my son’s reasons for this proposal are his own, and they are not done in malice or for gain of the family name.”

“Thank you,” said Hermione quietly. “I’m sure it will take time and a lot of… uncomfortable conversations. But if this is what will need to happen for the time being, I hope to be able to be a beneficial addition to your family.”

Hermione had never been adept with diplomacy - see also S.P.E.W. and her current situation - but she hoped that her polite answer and didn’t notice her hedging too much.

“I’m sure it won’t be difficult for you. Second, I’d love to talk to you some about the Malfoy family just so you have some knowledge about it. Then we can tour the Manor because I assure you it’s large enough to get lost in, and I’ll even throw in a sneak peak at the library.”

“That would be lovely Narcissa, thank you.”

The rest of the morning, following excellent elf-made pastries, was spent wandering around the ancestral home. Narcissa rattled off fact after fact while mixing in some personal secrets and decorating and architectural tips. 

The conversation went from stilted to engaged once Narcissa led her past what was definitely an original Klimpt followed closely by what seemed to be an early Magritte. The older witch was mum on how the family had exactly acquired them, but implied that there were documents in their Gringotts vault that demonstrated the authenticity. 

“I’m just… what’s the word? Surprised? Yes, surprised the family was open to Muggle art.”

“Many of my ancestors simply wanted the best, and unfortunately somewhere around the 1920’s or so that came to be equated with only things that were pure wizard. Which rapidly devolved into the debacle that was the rest of the twentieth century.”

“Well, they are two excellent examples of the period. Most museums would kill to have those pieces.”

“Oh, just wait until you see the ballroom my dear. You’ll love the architecture.”

And she did. The room was huge, but Hermione was unsure if the area was magically expanded or if it was truly that large. The best word was opulent. Chandeliers with countless crystals and real candles, marble tiling, and gilded pillars with a Corrinthian finish. 

“This is stunning Narcissa. And quite well kept.”

The woman next to her clasped her hands across her chest in the first example of physical excitement Hermione had seen today. “I’m glad to hear that Hermione. Because this will become an integral part of your life. We host many events here, including your engagement ball and likely the wedding reception as well.”

“Oh, an engagement party…” she found it hard to find any type of excitement herself. “Is that really necessary? This arrangement is pretty clearly political in nature.”

Hermione was expecting a diplomatic, polite reply from her soon to be mother in law, but instead got a loud belly laugh. “Oh, Hermione, you really are quite hilarious. Of course the marriage is politically motivated. So was mine, and Lucius’ father’s and grandfather’s before him. Almost every marriage in pureblood society is political. That’s starting to change some with the current generation, but it’s still the expected norm. The ball is a place to get even more political deals done. And it helps our family maintain influence in every circle.”

“Ah,” said Hermione abruptly. “So there’s no chance of getting out of it then?”

“I’m afraid not,” said Narcissa, smiling. “But we can stick it to them a little if you’d like. Expand the natural guest list to include people who might normally not be invited. A subtle two finger salute if you will.”

Hermione gaped at the woman, “But won’t that cause trouble for you?”

Narcissa waved her off, “My dear, I’m always causing some sort of trouble. But I’m at the top of the food chain and nobody will question it. I’m sure most of the people you might want to include are likely already on my list, but what would you like me to do about the Weasley’s?”

Hermione paused at the question. What did she want to do about the Weasleys? Did she want to invite them? Would they come? She snorted, of course they would. Molly Weasley never turned down an opportunity to go to a fancy party, if only to complain the whole time about what she would have done differently. It might even give Hermione a chance to talk to George or Percy, maybe even Arthur to see what was going on. If they could help her in any way. 

“I think,” Hermione said slowly, “That I’d like to invite them. I’m not particularly close with any of them right now-”

Narcissa laughed, “I’m sure Molly made sure of that once you kicked her son to the curb?”

“No matter that he was the one to do the kicking,” retorted Hermione. “But I think I’d like to have them there. And inviting a whole family of blood traitors to an event that signifies taking down one of the most well-to-do pureblood households has a nice irony to it, doesn’t it?”

“Yes, it does,” said Narcissa. “Hermione, I do believe this will be the beginning of a great partnership. I’m glad to have another woman in the house again, especially one who loves a good scheme.”

Hermione nodded. Narcissa was a powerful woman and she would be able to learn a lot from the older witch. 

“I think I’ll keep you from the torture of planning right now,” continued Narcissa. “It’s been a long day. And I think I promised to show you the library?”

“Lead the way.”

\---------------------

Hermione was fairly certain that she wouldn’t ask for a divorce unless Draco granted her lifetime access to the library. It was an unprecedented three stories and contained more books than the Hogwarts library and the Black family library at Grimmauld combined. The list of books that Hermione wanted to read, let alone touch and browse, had grown infinitely since she set foot in the room. 

Draco found her, two hours after Narcissa had left, in the middle of the second floor loop. She had given up on looking at everything on the first floor and had decided to work top down. The third floor was mostly housekeeping manuals and children’s stories. There were a few magical cookbooks and some beauty spell books as well. 

The second floor focused primarily on magical history and governments. But she also discovered some rare editions of popular muggle novels. She was looking at what seemed to be _the_ original copy of _The Pure-blood Directory_ when Draco called up to her. 

“Too bored with the first floor, Granger?”

She shook her head and slid the book back onto the shelf. Leaning over the railing she spotted the blonde standing in the center of the first floor between the reading chairs. 

“On the contrary, too distracted. I decided to work top down. I’m glad my assumption that the least used were on the top floor and the slightly more common or reference books were here.”

“Of course you did,” Draco mutters shaking his head. 

“Did you know that you have both a second and third folio up here?”

“Of course,” he said, tucking his hands into his pockets. “I read all the classics growing up.”

“Even the muggle ones?” she said in a slightly teasing way. 

Draco rolled his eyes. “How has nobody told you that Shakespeare was a half blood?”

“You’re joking! There’s no way, he… the Bard knew too much about court life.”

“Because he was the bastard child of a courtier and a local witch. I guess I shouldn’t be too surprised that Weasley didn’t know or care to tell you this information.”

“But I’ve read his biographies!”

“Which can’t break the statute of secrecy. Macbeth barely made it to the stage without getting him in trouble.”

“Well,” she says. “There’s something new everyday.”

“You can assure that most of the ‘muggle’ works up there are either written by a wizard that is less than a pureblood or by a squib from a well respected family. That isn’t to say that there aren’t some muggle works, but my Grandfather saw most of those being cleared out.”

Looking back towards the spines she laughed, “So your grandfather was a great fan of the Brontë sisters?”

He laughed, “No, but my grandmother was. And she was obviously the more sensible of the two. Get down here Granger. We shouldn’t be yelling in a library, even if it’s the family one.”

She turned to look longingly at the stacks. 

“I’ve brought tea and biscuits,” he said in a knowing voice. “And you can come back tomorrow and the day after that and the day after that. In fact, you can come back after tea and dinner later.” 

“Be right down,” she promised. 

As she made it down to the first floor, Draco was pouring her tea and setting it at the chair across the table from him. After she took a sip he felt that it was appropriate to start interrogating her about her day.

“How was your day with my mother?” he asked politely. 

“Excellent,” she replied. “I learned a lot actually. Saw most of the Manor, including some priceless paintings, and learned about all the secretly powerhouse matriarchs.”

“Of course she told you about all that.”

She smiled over the lip of her mug. “And I found out about our engagement _ball_. Would have been nice to get a heads up on that one.”

“Ah, yeah,” said Draco rubbing the back of his neck. Color grew on his cheeks. “I forget sometimes that you don’t know all the traditional aspects. I’ll make sure that I or Mother will keep you informed. I’m actually surprised you didn’t push back more on that.”

“Well, there’s not a lot of wiggle room. I’m trying to roll with the punches right now. But, apparently we have a planning meeting tomorrow, because apparently the ball is on the first. How will more than five people show up? Isn’t less than a week not enough time to invite everyone?”

He snorted, “Everyone will drop whatever they’re doing and come. Not that many pureblood households have regular weekend plans besides stuffy dinner parties.”

“And everyone has ball gowns just lying around that they can throw on?”

“Yes, that’s right.” He sipped his tea before adding, “And Madame Malkin is about to get an influx of orders. Assuredly Mother has told her, since she’ll likely be coming over to fit us all for the occasion tomorrow.”

“I don’t think I’ve ever worn anything bespoke,” she mused. “Is there something specific I have to wear?”

“Traditionally, you would wear the color of your family’s crest. So you clearly have some options. It just can’t be white or black.”

“I’m sure Narcissa has some ideas. Probably should avoid crimson and gold?”

He laughed, “Personally, I’d love to see you in a deep green.”

Hermione rolled her eyes, and stuffed the second half of a biscuit into her mouth. “I’m sure you would. But maybe that would win me some points. Or could be quite symbolic.”

“Like you said, I’m sure Mother will have some ideas. But I think a deeper color will be good. It will match your complexion and it will differentiate you from the other ladies. They’ll all either try to show you up with something much too shiny or sparkly, or they’ll be in spring pastels.”

“Well, I’m glad one of us is current on the trends,” she said laughing. 

“You’ll get there, Granger. You’ll be a Malfoy soon enough.” 

“You mean that to be reassuring, but it’s not as reassuring as you think it is. I have no idea what I’m doing and don’t want to drag down your family with me.”

“If anything, you’ll be dragging us up out of the mud.”

He let the comment hang for a little bit before he stood and nodded at her, leaving the room.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Thank you for the continued support of this story!
> 
> Per usual, it's just me, no beta, so if you see anything weird or out of place, let me know.


	6. Caught Empty Handed

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Quick update this week! We're flashing back to when Hermione was on the run and how she got caught. I know there's other juicy tidbits you'd like to get to like Draco's motives and the engagement party, and I promise we're getting there. But first: context.
> 
> Enjoy!

“He's a ghost, he's a god  
He's a man, he's a guru  
You're one microscopic cog  
In his catastrophic plan  
Designed and directed by  
His red right hand”  
Red Right Hand, _Nick Cave & The Bad Seeds_

**15 February, 2002**

In a surprise, Hermione had received an owl from Ronald. She had run all types of diagnostic spells on the parchment and the owl. She also moved immediately after letting the owl leave to ensure that the aurors weren’t tracking the owl’s location. 

Once she dug into the letter proper, she knew that the Ministry was in fact coming after her. 

_Dear Hermione,_

_We’re not on the best of terms right now, but I think that we can get past that. I still care about you greatly, and I want to help you._

‘Not the best of terms’? They weren’t on terms at all. She honestly couldn't remember the last time they had spoken. 

_I know that you have a lot of problems with what’s going on, but please come back. The media is saying salacious things about you, that simply aren’t true. Skeeter is pushing her usual lies, and you need to come back and stand up for yourself._

Ha - if she wasn’t already sure that the letter was not written by Ronald, the word ‘salacious’ was the tip off. Not that Ron wasn’t bright in his own way (hello Wizards Chess Hogwarts champion three years running), but his vocabulary was limited. He likely had never used the word in his life, nor would he know how to use it correctly. 

He hated Skeeter as much as she and Harry did, but he mostly avoided speaking poorly of the reporter because his mother still read the trash the vile witch produced. Even if Ronald cared about what was going on, he wouldn't suggest coming back to protest. He would likely think in a strategic way, suggesting she continue to stay in hiding until the heat died down. 

_Please write me back, I can help you Hermione._

_Yours,_

_Ronald Weasley_

Hermione took a deep breath, sighing the air out of her lungs before incinerating the impersonated missive.

This meant that she’d have to be more careful and aware of her movements. She’d have to think about venturing to locations that were unfamiliar, maybe move farther away from the continent. She’d also consider that they may have figured out that she had used some Muggle forms of travel, so no more long flights. Only apparition. That would be dangerous, especially if she was only going off of a map that she had seen once. Or a photo on a postcard. 

\----------------

_17 February, 2002_

They were definitely following her. Hermione had long been casting various glamours on herself when she would go into town for supplies, never the same one. But here in Belarus, just outside of Minsk, she hadn’t accounted for the witch running the Muggle corner shop who knew she was not who she looked like. 

The woman had been friendly the last two days when she had come for food and spoke to her like she was familiar, even though Hermione came in with a different face. Today the witch had leveled a warning. 

“Men in red coats came asking around today, looking for a witch of all things,” she whispered in a low accent. “One of them even pulled out a wooden stick to threaten me, isn’t that weird?”

Hermione nodded, “Yes, that is odd. Thank you.”

“I didn’t say anything,” she said, “It’s none of my business, but you should go.”

Nodding, Hermione tucked all of her purchases in the bag and walked calmly out the door. Casting _homenum revelio_ to ascertain she was actually alone. With that she grabbed her stolen bicycle and rode to the abandoned house she had pitched her tent in. 

The wards hadn’t triggered at all so she apparated up to the second floor. She wandlessly opened the bag and everything began to pack itself. In a brief happy moment she thought of the Disney version of _Sword in the Stone_ when Merlin himself packs his entire hut to go with Arthur. Of course the last time she saw it, she didn’t know that Merlin was a real person. And now she knew that she didn’t have to yell ridiculous phrases like “higitus figitus zumbakazing.” At least the fictional depiction of the man packed his books first like any sensible wizard. 

At the time, young Hermione was fascinated with the concept of magic. Breaking the laws of physics, having control over nature and objects, it was something that Hermione wanted to believe in so desperately despite her rational mind telling her it wasn’t possible. But when Minerva had entered her home she knew that she could accept the unbelievability of magic. 

The joy from her birthday until the following year when she left for school was filled with joy. She devoured every fairytale she could with a new light. All of this could be (and probably was) true. She gleaned whatever she could from every page. And she read the copy of _Hogwarts a History_ that Minerva had left her at least once a month. 

However, the joy that she associated with magic had quickly died out. From the outset she was discriminated against purely because she had learned about magic later than everyone else. She was confident that her magic manifested just like all the other students’. Around the same time, even. That’s what history and the laws of magic taught her. 

But the fact that her blood wasn’t “pure” had snatched any sense of belonging she thought she would find in the wizarding world. Now she was being reminded of it on a regular basis. It was destroying her life. At least there wasn’t a snarky, little, pale-headed, bully doing the reminding now. 

Once her belongings were packed, she thought the best she could of the Scottish Highlands. It would be a long jump, but she needed to do this trip in multiple pieces. Once her fit hit on a ledge, not too far from Hogwarts, she immediately pictured Reykjavik and disapparated again.

It was extremely dangerous for her to be setting foot anywhere near, let alone in, the UK. But her destination was normally reached via portkey, something she didn’t have the luxury of right now. She could book Muggle transportation, but an airplane was its own trap. If the aurors somehow got on the plane, she couldn’t do anything. Apparating blind, while moving that fast was a recipe for splinching. Not to mention the large amount of Muggles aboard that would surely cause her to add a violation of the Statute of Secrecy to her long list of supposed atrocities. 

Once in Iceland, she ordered a quick coffee and downed a pepper up potion. Hermione took six deep breaths and pictured Salem, Massachusetts. The irony was not lost on her. She was being hunted just like her predecessors had been. Hopefully she could either lay low near the academy, or she would wait in the Muggle area for things to die down. And she was infinitely closer to Harry if needed. 

The last thing she wanted was to out his hiding location and expose him to the press he had fled. But if push came to shove, she would be apparating to the edge of his secret kept wards and demanding he hide her for as long as she needed. 

Once in Massachusetts, Hermione surfed the classifieds for rentals that had been on the market for a long time. Taking a hint from Slughorn, she found that empty houses were much better for hiding than just a tent in the middle of nowhere. It was significantly more comfortable, and kept her from too many unnecessary flashbacks of the war. 

She would lay low for a day or two, make sure that DMLE was still some steps behind her, and keep her fingers crossed that they would just give up.

\----------------

_19 February, 2002_

Hermione’s finger crossing had not been enough. 

Two days after she had landed in the States, she was cooking dinner when her wards alerted her to eight wizards directly on the border of the wards. Really? Eight? Wasn’t that overkill?

Hermione quickly took the food off of the stove and turned the gas up. Was it worth trying to destroy this poor couple’s home to get away? Probably. She really didn’t want to go to Azkaban. An explosion would certainly serve as an excellent distraction for her to attempt to get outside of the anti-apparation wards that the aurors had certainly raised. 

She was surprised that they hadn’t moved in yet. Hermione had been moving around the residence fairly erratically, so they must know she knew they were there. Standing at the base of the stairs she summoned her bag, leaving the tent. Good riddance anyways. 

“Miss Granger!” boomed a sonorus enhanced voice. “Please surrender yourself, we have you surrounded. If you come out now, we will put in a good word with the Ministry.”

She rolled her eyes, more lies from law enforcement. If she wasn’t so preoccupied with the injustice of forced marriage, she would surely be seeking justice reform and speaking about the legalities of what the aurors had done to hunt her down. Hermione had no doubt that a tracker (and other dubious strategies) had been authorized by Lord Greengrass. Merlin, he probably suggested them. 

Moving towards the back door, where she could still see the burner, she cast a protective shield around herself. Once set, she cast an _incendio_ at the stove and watched it catch. Hermione crouched and covered her ears. 

The explosion knocked down the wards that the aurors had put up, but when she turned on the spot, she still couldn’t apparate. With a curse under her breath, she sprinted into the backyard and jumped over the auror who had been knocked onto his back. 

It was difficult to know how far the anti-apparition wards went. She kept running into the park hoping that they would search other houses. Once she got about a half mile away, she tried to apparate again, but still had no luck. Hermione was close to pulling out her plan z, a broom nicked from the Weasley shed right before the war, and flying away when multiple portkeys deposited half an auror squad around her. 

With wands aimed at her, she sighed. 

“Don’t move Miss Granger,” one warned. 

“At least tell me how far I would have had to go to apparate,” she said, dejectedly. 

He chuckled, “Outside of Salem. We had them lock down the town.”

“Bastards,” she muttered before sticking out her hands, palms up. 

“Wand first,” another one commanded. “We’re not taking any chances.”

Hermione rolled her eyes and pulled it slowly from her pocket, “You really think I can take down eight aurors by myself?”

“Like we said, not taking any chances.”

“I’ll take that as a compliment then,” she said, handing her wand to the one with his hand out. “Be careful with that, I anticipate it will be difficult for me to get a new one in the future.”

Once they had control of her wand, and no longer felt threatened, despite her skill with wandless magic, her hands were put into magic-suppressing handcuffs. Without warning, she felt the telling tug behind her navel indicating they’d be going to London directly.

Once Hermione’s feet hit home soil, her stomach protested. But before she could lean over and hurl, a flashbulb went off. Those blast-ended skrewts passing for aurors were leading her from outside the Ministry, then through the building, down to their cells. She would be serving as another publicity stunt for Lord Greengrass’ precious law. 

“Miss Granger! Miss Granger!”

“Over here, Miss Granger!”

“Do you still oppose the law?”

“Will you find a solicitor to help you?”

“Have you called in another favor with the Minister?”

“Where is Harry Potter? Surely he wants to help you?”

“Did you honestly think you would get away with this?”

“Is it true you gave Viktor Krum a love potion? Or did you imperius him into hiding you?”

“Have you been fired from your Ministry position?”

“Will you marry someone to save yourself?’

“Is it true that Ronald Weasley is finding a brother to marry you for him?”

She kept her head down and walked as fast as the aurors on either side would allow. Hermione didn’t want to see what would be written in the papers for the rest of her life, or however long her situation held the public’s attention. _Heroine Falls by the Wayside: Granger Runs from the Ministry_ , _From Enforcing the Law to Running from it: Hermione Granger, Marriage Law Dodger_ , _Where the Order of Merlin Member Went Wrong: Hermione Granger’s Tragic Tale_ : all very really possibilities that would likely accompany embarrassing photos of her dirty, handcuffed self being perp-walked into the building. 

Once she was booked, her effects were documented, and she was unceremoniously thrown into a cell, she immediately had visitors. 

“Miss Granger, glad to see that the just will prevail,” intoned Hyperion Greengrass. 

She glared at him, “I’m glad to see that some things don’t change in this world, like you believing the Greengrasses are on the correct side of history... again. Even though I think you’ll find eventually that they are not and were not in either war.”

“You are quite the rude little girl,” he said with a sour look on his face. “I-”

“Woman actually, or witch if you prefer,” she said, cutting off his next comment. “Before you espouse something along the lines of ‘Muggles don’t teach their children manners and they should be more like witches and wizards,’ which really is blood supremacy, I’d like to remind you that the Queen of England is a Muggle and her family likely have the best manners on the planet.”

He stood there gaping at her like a fish. Apparently Hyperion thought he could come down here and gloat to her with little to no resistance. But that would never be the case with Hermione Granger. 

“I’d also like to say that I do have good manners, but only when others aren’t rude to me and I like them. Unfortunately, Lord Greengrass,” she spat. “You don’t fall into either of those categories.”

“I will leave you with this, then Miss Granger,” he said in a threatening tone. “No matter who you hire, no matter what evidence you present in court, there is no saving this. You will go to Azkaban unless you tell me now that you consent to marrying a pureblood from one of the old families. But that offer only stands until I leave this cell. You won’t find anyone after today who’s willing to marry you, but I have on good authority that Marcus Flint is willing to look past some bad press if you commit right now.”

“You can go fuck yourself… sir.”

“Very well then, Miss Granger. I look forward to sentencing you to rot in Azkaban.”

\------------

A few hours later she heard footsteps approaching. Not bothering to get up, let alone open her eyes, Hermione relied on her hearing to find out who it was. 

“I told you not to run,” Kingsley said lowly. 

“I told you I was going to,” she countered. 

“Yes, but I was hoping you might listen to me.”

“Why would I? What would you have done? You would have found a tolerable young wizard to strap me to? Tell me, was it McLaggen or was it Davies?”

His snort told her that she was on the nose with her guess. 

“I can’t help you now, you know.”

“I know,” she said. “I don’t need your help or want it. I don’t particularly want to be speaking with you, but I was recently told I was rude and can’t let that reputation spread. What might the wizarding world think of me?”

“Hermione, this is serious!”

“You don’t think I know that?” she said, finally sitting up. “I’m well aware that Azkaban is serious, Sirius told me that.” Her smirk was waffling, but she did her best to hold it. “Marriage is also serious, Kingsley. Sirius Black even said that getting married, for him, would be worse than Azkaban and I refuse to submit.”

“You could have been great, Hermione.”

“I still will be, no thanks to you.”

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Thank you so much to all my usual readers and reviewers! Your comments make my week! And welcome to new readers, I hope you're enjoying the story. 
> 
> I don't have a beta regularly working with me on this, so all my mistakes are my own. If you spot anything glaring, please let me know :)


	7. Dear Polixenes

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I know everyone's looking forward to hearing more from Draco... but here's a necessary set up chapter instead. Enjoy!

“Holding my breath  
Last one I’ve got left ‘till I see you  
Deliver my heart  
With the pieces and parts of me left  
Every last day  
Seemed to carry the weight of a lifetime”  
Sara Bareilles, _Send Me The Moon_

**25 February, 2002**

_Polixenes,_

_Things are… not going well. I thought about reaching out before now, but everything happened so fast and I didn’t find the time. Initially I thought that the new law wouldn’t amount to much, that people would fight back, and that the Ministry would backtrack to save face. Instead, they chased me around the continent, even to America, and have thrown me in a MLE cell twice._

_I’m not sure how much you know, so I guess I’ll start from the beginning. The Ministry passed a Marriage Law (if you can believe it) at the beginning of the year, requiring witches and wizards who were single and of eligible age to marry before a certain date. In my belief that it was ridiculous, I sought support in various departments with no luck. Kings held a “hearing” for me to make my case, but Augusta and Andromeda were the only ones at least half listening. I may have gone a little overboard and insulted Greengrass… and Kingsley had to hold me in contempt._

_It felt good to be in their faces as an outspoken Muggleborn, but at the same time, it felt a little like my first year at Hogwarts again. I didn’t have much support and nobody wanted to associate with me. So I left and hid out with Viktor for a little while, but the Ministry came after me, much more aggressively than I thought they might._

_I would currently be writing to you from Azkaban if not for Draco Malfoy of all people. The poor sod stood up prior to my sentencing in the Wizengamot, said he would enter into a marriage contract with me (after Greengrass tried to strong arm me into marrying Flint before the hearing as a “last option”) and whisked me away to his Manor._

_It’s all a little strange to say the least. Narcissa is, dare I say, excited to have me around. She apologizes at least once a day for things that happened during the war, but she also is ready to work as partners in crime to get things done. She is no nonsense and the best planner I’ve ever seen. But also has an affinity for fashion that is overwhelming. My closets (yes, with an s) are so full that I can’t even dress myself most days. I have to ask a house elf for advice._

_Draco and I mostly see each other when we both read in the library or make small talk and walk in the gardens. The situation will definitely come to a head soon; we’re having a stuffy engagement party in a few days, and he promised me a conversation before it. You’ll be invited to the engagement party, by the by (if the owl manages to find you). But don’t feel like you need to come. If it comes to a wedding, that’s when I’d ask you to come; I’m working on Narcissa to make it press-free, so it would be safe… other than you having to talk to a lot of people you’d probably rather avoid._

_I want you to keep your anonymity as long as possible. And don’t feel the need to reply, I just want to make sure you got your information from me, not second hand._

_All My Best,_

_H_

\------------------

**27 February, 2002**

When her floo chimed and a letter popped out, she knew Harry had finally gathered his thoughts enough to write her back. The wizard normally took a few days to respond, and although his notes were normally very short, she knew that they were heartfelt none-the-less.

_Hermione,_

_Why didn’t you come to me first? You would have been welcome here for as long as needed. You know that the wards and location are unplottable, because if memory serves, you did them yourself. Do I have to compete with Viktor, now? Is he stealing my title of best friend?_

_I’m sure you’ll give me some sort of noble argument about wanting to give me my space and not letting anyone get near me from the Ministry, but I think that potential opportunity to rip off the bandaid and throw my weight around would probably have been better than tying your soul and magic to Draco Malfoy._

_Did George at least try to help? Percy didn’t have his ethics suddenly kick in? I know that Molly essentially blacklisted you after you “broke Ron’s heart” but I’d think the boys would help? I’m disappointed if the answer to those questions is no._

_I think the Weasleys are a good reason for me to ignore the first party, and then I can make a more dramatic entrance at the wedding (which of course I hope doesn’t actually have to happen, but I think we both know how the Ministry is…)_

_Please keep me up to date, and if you feel like Malfoy is going to kill you and bury you in his backyard, let me know._

_Polix_

Hermione laughed at the last line. But that was mostly because she was desperately trying to avoid the beginning of the letter. 

Of course Harry would have wanted her to come to him. Of course she should have. Of course nobody would have found her. And of course, she had taken the Gryffindor way out which had landed her in the current situation. 

She sat to pen another response. 

_Dear Polixenes,_

_I know that I should have, and I know that I was studpid, but please don’t be cross at me. I know this is likely something you’ll remind me of for the rest of our lives. So even though you don’t have to keep saying “I told you so” I know you will. You took the Gryffindor way out most of the time, I think it’s only polite you allow me to do the same once in a while._

_Don’t go feeling jealous of Viktor, I figured Bulgaria was far enough away that the Ministry wouldn’t care, or we could pretend to be engaged, but I couldn’t go through with it. And while you still hold the title of best friend, Viktor holds the title of friend with extremely good benefits (something both of us have successfully, and rightfully avoided - well mostly, but that’s neither here nor there)._

_It doesn’t seem like there will be any murders happening, Lucius is no longer part of this plane and both the Mafloys residing in the Manor seem to have genuinely changed their minds. I am hoping to be more assured of that soon._

_If you’ll agree, I’d love you to stand with me at the wedding. That may be a concession that Narcissa would make in the sake of tradition. But of course, that puts you in the spotlight even more. But you’d get the most exquisite champagne that galleons can buy, all night. You could even bring that girl I know you’re dating but won’t tell me about (as long as she knows about magic at this point, a Malfoy wedding seems like a harsh introduction - and obviously yes I’ve concluded that she’s a Muggle)._

_Think on it, and don’t be a stranger._

_Yours,  
H_

She sealed the parchment with wax and knelt next to the fireplace in the den. Whispering the destination of the note, she waited for the fire to turn purple and then she tossed the note through. 

“So that’s how you and Potter have kept in touch,” came a low voice at the doorway. “I knew you weren’t using owls, too easy to track. Am I to assume you designed that spell?”

She whipped around from her knees to see Draco standing there with a curious look on his face, arms crossed. 

“Yes, it took some testing, but I was able to modify the floo to work across borders and not disrupt the unplottability of Harry’s location.”

“That’s some tricky magic,” he said. 

“Yes, and not completely within the bounds of the Statute of Secrecy or home modification orders… so I’d appreciate it if you kept this between us.”

Draco held his palms up in front of his shoulders. “Not my zoo, not my thestrals. Nobody has intercepted your messages?”

“If they did, they would have gotten a strong stinging hex to the hand, and likely dropped it back into the network. You probably noticed the purple flames?”

He nodded, walking further into the room. 

“It technically runs adjacent to the travel network, so I piggyback off it’s magic without putting it in the huge flow of everything. “

“You really are brilliant,” he said shaking his head. 

She laughed, “Well, we use a fairly obvious code name for him, and if anyone knows of me, they’d likely be able to put two and two together… but no issues for the last few years.”

“Well, it’s impressive,” he said. “But that’s not why I’m here.”

She sighed, pushing up off of the floor. “I assume it has something to do with the big soiree in a few days?”

“Yes, Mother would like us all to get our outfits this afternoon. She’s managed to pull Madame Malkin herself to the Manor for lunch, measurements, and fabric picking.”

“Am I going to hate this as much as I think I will?”

“Probably,” he said chuckling. “But my Mother will help you look like a million galleons.”

“Well at least the charade of me turning into the perfect Malfoy wife can continue.”

“Yes, and we’ll make a pleasantly matched pair. It will be perfect.”

“Oh, Nimue save me now.”

\-----------------

Seven hours later, Hermione plopped down onto the love seat in the library with a loud sigh. 

“It wasn’t that bad, was it?” questioned her betrothed as he sat down in a wingback across from her.

“That depends on your definition of bad. Was it ‘Voldemort stalking my friend’s dreams’ bad? No. Was it ‘I want to pull my hair out’ bad? Yes.”

“Well, let’s end the day on a positive note then.” Draco moved towards the drinks cabinet, pulling out various bottles and a shaker.

Hermione didn’t enjoy buying clothes on a normal day. She associated it with her mother and Ginny, and now both women were a painful reminder that she was lonely. But she also struggled to find things that she liked _and_ fit her frame _and_ were within her budget. 

In one way, “shopping” with Narcissa made the question less about fit and budget. The older witch was footing the bill, and the fit to her body was no problem because Madame Malkin was there measuring everything to her specifically. The problem with this type of picking was that Hermione had to compete with two Malfoys about what she liked and what suited her. 

First was the cut of the gown - Narcissa’s choice was well fitted but conservative. It covered her arms, which was good, but a glamour would work to cover the scar (which Hermione privately thought was Narcissa’s primary concern, not some ridiculous notion of modesty). And the skirt of the gown was too big for her tastes. She’d likely be tripping over it all night, or ramming it into innocent passers by.

Draco then suggested that she try something called a mermaid. Narcissa’ smile was a knowing one when she allowed Malkin to draft one in fabric to see it on. Hermione couldn't remember the last time she had worn something that gripped her hips this tightly. Privately, Hermione thought that nobody would recognize her, because nobody would expect her to wear anything like this. Narcissa’s comment had summed it up well - unless the woman had actual hips, not just the hips that their significant other believed they had, this was a difficult silhouette. 

Hermione had then suggested a tea length gown and was shut down immediately. A column was also ruled out fairly quickly. It wouldn’t be dramatic enough. As if Hermione’s presence and the situation weren’t dramatic enough on their own. 

They had settled on a less conservative fit and flare design, closer to what Narcissa had suggested initially. Once that was decided, the Malfoy matriarch requested the best fabrics that Malkin had. No house colors allowed, so that quickly ruled out burgundy, gold, silver, and darker shades of green. Black and navy were too bland, and Hermione refused to wear a pattern. 

Plum and royal blue were quickly (after only thirty minutes of discussion) favorites - burnt orange was considered, but Draco refused to be washed out by her dress in photos. Once the two colors were decided on, Malkin offered her best fabrics. Before Hermione could say she liked plum better, Narcissa insisted on bringing up the possible jewelry from the vaults to see which fabric it would compliment best. 

Being draped in the family jewels may have been the dream of some of her classmates, but Hermione felt extremely uncomfortable at the thought. Many of the pieces were from the Black or Malfoy vaults, and the ancestors who created them likely would have poisoned her in her sleep before letting her wear them. Hermione was too tired, and honestly didn’t want to offend anyone, especially Narcissa; so she didn’t object. But her face must have looked uncomfortable.

Draco, of all people, had noticed. 

“Mother, I wonder if we might just have a new piece made,” he floated, standing by the mirrors that had been set up in Narcissa’s closet. 

“A new piece? There’s no way-”

“Mother, you know that the Goblins are dying to get their hands on those gems that I acquired. I bet that Blaise could convince them to finish it for the party…”

“But Draco, tradition says-”

He gave her a somewhat stern look. “This whole situation is far from traditional, Mother. And I think the press would be more positive if we signify new beginnings. Plus we can give Hermione her own piece and it will match her dress perfectly.”

As Narcissa turned to think and look at the plum brocade, Draco winked at Hermione. 

Within the hour, Narcissa and Madam Malkin had mocked up a dress for her, Draco had sketched a basic design for jewelry, and her outfit was decided. Then it was Draco’s turn which took another hour and a half because the discussion on finishing stitching had taken thirty minutes just on that.

Draco pulled her out of her own thoughts when he handed her a cocktail that smelled of lime and juniper. 

“Is this a gimlet?” she asked. 

“Yes, I noticed that you like tart. And assumed as a good British citizen, you liked gin.”

She chuckled and tipped the glass to Draco. After a sip a smile spread across her face. “When did you learn to bartend like this, Draco?”

“There’s only so long that you can drink firewhiskey before you crave something else.”

“Still impressive,” she said. “This is a distinctly Muggle drink.”

“And I’ve been to many Muggle bars.”

His smirk egged her on, “Doing what exactly?”

“Courting investors and working with board members. People pitching business ideas to me, that sort of thing.”

She looked at him, tilting her head to the side. “I don’t think I realized Malfoy Industries was in the Muggle world.”

“We are, but mostly as shadow investors. My father began venturing into the world to hide some of his wealth before the second war, and I opened those branches back up after eighth year.”

“Smart. A good way to grow wealth I would think,” she said quietly, taking another sip. 

Draco did as well, pausing before he spoke, “Yes, diversifying my portfolio and what not. But it’s also important for me to see the world, not just my little plot of it. I think it helped solidify my change in opinions as well.”

Hermione nodded, “What sparked that change… if you don’t mind me asking?”

Draco sighed, looked at her with a heated glance, and downed the rest of his drink.

“That sounds dangerously close to the conversation I promised you,” he whispered.

“Yes, and I think it’s probably a good idea to have that conversation,” she said. 

“Agreed,” he said, looking her in the eye again. “But I don’t want to do it while you’re tired. And we’ve been drinking. I think we should have this conversation tomorrow, I think it’s going to be a long talk.”

“So… another drink then?” she said with a smirk. “And you’ll promise we’ll talk tomorrow?”

“Only if you tell me your favorite cocktail,” he said grabbing her empty glass. 

“A cosmopolitan please,” she said looking into her lap.

He turned slowly from the cabinet, tilting his head towards his shoulder. “Really? I didn’t have you pegged as a fruity drink girl, Granger.”

“This is the one exception,” she said. “And I want you to promise me that you’ll start calling me Hermione when we’re together. I know that you’re supposed to be formal when we’re in public or talking to people outside your immediate circle, but I think this will really make it all feel a little more normal.”

“I can try, Hermione,” he said. “But I’ll probably forget sometimes.”

Her brain froze before a response could get out. Normally her name was a mouthful for people, they placed the emphasis in an awkward place, they enunciated too much, or they stumbled through their cadence making it all the way through her name. But Draco Malfoy said it like it was the most natural thing in the world. And that alone threw her off. How did this wizard keep surprising her?

“What’s your favorite, then?”

“If I’m in the Muggle world, I always order a gin and tonic.”

“Really? A G&T? That’s the most basic mixed drink,” she said teasingly. 

“And that’s why it’s so good. Lime, bubbles, and botanicals.”

“Cheers to simple then,” she said. 

He just laughed and began making her another drink.

“I don’t think anything about this situation is simple, but we’ll try our best.”

“That’s all we can ask for,” she agreed.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Thanks so much to everyone who's been following, reading, enjoying, commenting, and leaving kudos on this story! It keeps me going while I'm writing and I'm glad it's well received. 
> 
> Since it's the Holidays, updates may slow down a little, and I may not get to everyone's comments right away. I work in healthcare, and am getting pulled into some surge shifts as well (yay vaccines!) so my loose schedule may become more loose, just wanted to give everyone a heads up. 
> 
> I hope my fellow literary nerds enjoyed the Easter Egg in this one... and brace yourselves for THE conversation next chapter. 
> 
> Happy Holidays and stay safe everyone!


	8. THE Conversation

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Yikes - I'm so sorry that this update took so long. Between the holidays, finishing grad applications, starting to stress about hearing back on admissions, and vaccine roll out at work, I haven't had a lot of time to write.  
> This chapter and conversation feel like a pivotal point in the story and I absolutely wanted to make sure I did it justice. 
> 
> I also started and finished watching Bridgerton twice... which if you've seen it, you know is very necessary and important ;)
> 
> I hope you enjoy!

“My heart is thrilled by the still of your hand  
It’s how I know now that you understand

There’s no plan, there’s no race to be run  
The harder the rain, honey, the sweeter the sun  
There’s not plan, there’s no kingdom to come  
I’ll be your man if you got love to get done  
Sit in and watch the sunlight fade  
Honey, enjoy, it’s gettin’ late  
There’s no plan, there’s no hand on the rein  
As Mack explained, there will be darkness again.”  
Hozier, _No Plan_

**28 February, 2002**

Hermione was extremely disappointed at the sound of her morning alarm. She rubbed the sleep out of her eyes and stared up at the canopy of her bed. Someone who had lived here prior had enchanted it to show the current constellations and planets. The magic had helped her fall asleep on many nights that her brain would not shut off. But now, it was not providing the calming effect she was hoping for. 

Breakfast was going to be painful. Draco had promised lots of tea and snacks for their discussion, which meant sometime after the first meal but before the last meal. She slightly regretted the request for snacks. Hermione’s stomach was broiling worse than a first year Neville Longbottom cauldron.

Somewhat surprisingly, Hermione was nervous. She had expected to be curious (because, duh). She had expected to be a little angry, she expected to be excited. But nerves were not something she expected. Nerves meant that she had some sort of emotional involvement. The onus was on Draco today, not her.

As the engagement party dawned, Hermione had begun to accept that she would likely have to marry Draco. There were certainly worse things, see her almost life sentence in Azkaban, but it was still not high on her life goals. However, if this conversation went well, smoothly even, then her life would likely get a considerably better outcome. 

If Draco convinced or showed her that he and his mother had changed, she could relax some. She wouldn’t be waiting for the other shoe to drop. Hermione could feel comfortable getting to know the Malfoy’s behind closed doors, and associating herself with them would end up being beneficial in overturning the law. 

But part of her though that the conversation was going to be a nightmare. Literally. It would likely bring up traumatizing memories for both of them, involving megalomaniacs, blood, and lots of taunting with harsh words that they were too young to understand. 

She had realized before all of this mess, shortly after the war when Harry had left, that she didn’t blame Draco, or the Malfoys in particular for anything that happened. She blamed pureblood society as a whole, and Tom Riddle for being a manipulative liar who brainwashed people. 

But the type of values that both Draco and Narcissa were raised with persisted. And they were difficult to get rid of. Old habits and all that. She was dreading that the Draco she had gotten hints at was not in fact who he was. She was worried that she would peel back the layers, there would be a bitter man who reminded her too much of his father or his younger self. 

Hermione reluctantly put on loungewear and made her way downstairs to the breakfast nook. She was shocked to see the other blonde resident of the Manor at the table. 

“Good morning Ms. Granger,” said Narcissa, smirking into her tea cup. “Draco left early for business at Gringotts this morning.”

The woman had a knack for mind reading, Hermione had to give her that. She couldn’t remember a morning that the matriarch had joined them for the first meal. 

“Good morning, Narcissa. I’m going to insist once again that you must call me Hermione.”

“Of course, Dear.”

“I must say I have gotten used to seeing Draco at the table that this change was a bit of a shock to the system.”

Hermione sat, trying to display her best table manners and grabbed a scone.

“I normally take breakfast in my rooms or on my balcony. As much as I would love to walk up and down countless flights of stairs every day, I find I simply don’t have the energy most days.”

Hermione quietly tucked that comment away. She didn’t learn personal facts about Narcissa often and she suspected that there was more to this sentiment. Narcissa had redone the entirety of the house, but there were likely many awful memories in her wing. Let alone any energy or core damage from the abuse of Voldemort. 

“Ah, well I hope I didn’t throw off your routine too much.”

“Nonsense,” replied Narcissa. “I’d love to talk to you some about the party tomorrow before Draco steals you and your attention for the rest of the day.”

At Hermione’s eyebrow raise, Narciss just laughed. 

“I’m sure that my son has delayed a long due conversation that you both need to have, and as usual has left it to the last minute. Am I correct?”

Hermione nodded, sipping on her tea. 

“Glad to see that I still know him well.” 

“So what are the big things I need to know for tomorrow?” inquired Hermione. 

“This is essentially your ‘coming out’ party for Pureblood Society. It is the chance for our family to show our commitment to the law, to you, and to a positive legacy. But of course you know all of that.”

Hermione nodded, waiting for Narcissa to continue. 

“You’ll be expected to be part of the receiving line with Draco and I. Many of the families will be polite, but not want to speak with you much, unless they already know you. Working for the Ministry, you obviously know many of the main families, but I had the elves prepare cards with photos and details of all the families. This will help you win their good graces, and I assume, will serve as a good distraction tomorrow. I remember Draco telling me that you enjoy studying.”

The twinkle in Narcissa’s eyes were similar to Dumbledore’s, but much more genuine. The mischief that Hermione could see in the witch’s eyes was both comforting and a little intimidating. Narcissa was solidly on Hermione’s side, thankfully, because she suspected the woman could burn everything to the ground and have the Ministry apologizing to the Malfoy Mistress. 

“Besides that, do your best to stick with Draco. He has been raised to navigate these social situations. He is excellent at pulling people in and out of conversations and he will be a great benefit. He’s also going to give a toast before the dancing. You will stand with him and nod along. Then you’ll both open the dancing.”

At the mention of formal, solo dancing, she became nervous. Hermione was out of practice. 

“What dance will we be doing?”

“That’s up to you,” answered Narcissa. “Draco assured me that you are an excellent dancer.”

Hermione tilted her head to the side, thinking about when Draco would have seen her dance. She tried to avoid the Ministry parties if she could, and surely spent them networking instead of socializing with the elite. 

“Did you not open the Yule Ball with a certain star quidditch player?”

Hermione smirked. She had. But Viktor was whispering encouragement to her in broken english so she had been clueless to the attention. 

“Yes, but that was a long time ago.”

Narcissa nodded. “Draco is also an exquisite dancer. I believe he favors waltz and the Regency dances if those are acceptable to you.”

Hermione visibly relaxed. “I think a slow waltz is going to be the best choice.” 

“And an excellent one. A classic but one that we can pick more contemporary music for. Also one that guarantees lots of couples will join after a few minutes.”

“I assume you will have my gown and a team of beauticians tomorrow?”

“Of course, of course,” said Narcissa waving her hand. “But that’s nothing to concern yourself about. Tomorrow you will also have at least two difficult conversations. I suspect that Lord Greengrass will likely try to intimidate you.” Narciss spoke the man’s name like the clotted cream from her scone had curdled in her mouth. “But you have clearly shown you know how to handle him yourself. No doubt Draco will go to bat for you as well. I also expect that Molly Weasley will have accepted my invitation. She never could say no to a society soiree.”

Hermione had difficulty not rolling her eyes at that. Of course Narcissa had Molly figured out. The woman Hermione had previously considered a mother figure could not resist the Pureblood finer things in life. A fancy party and a chance to remind everyone that her family was in fact just the same internally as other Sacred 28 families seemed to be what she lived for. Molly’s need for attention was well documented, and this would likely be no different. 

“I’m sure that she will bring the entire brood,” continued Narcissa. “Have you fallen out with all of them?”

“Not that I know of,” said Hermione pensively. “But none of them came to my trial. Arthur likes me and is a kind hearted man but he can frequently be spineless, especially where his wife is involved. Bill and Charlie like me, but they’re not around as much. And as for Fred, he was always my favorite, but he tries to avoid the family drama.” 

Narcissa thought about the new information that she had, reorganizing her thoughts. 

“No doubt you know how to handle the woman when she assuredly says something uncouth. But I want you to be as friendly as your conscience allows. I know the Weasley boy may have tried to help the Ministry, but I think a complete break from the family is unwise. We need to keep them on the chess board, at least for now.”

Hermione sighed and drank even more tea. 

“No pastries today?” asked Narcissa, the mother coming out in her question. 

“I’m not sure I could keep it down to be honest,” replied Hermione. “There’s a lot to think about today.”

“But it will get better, I think.”

Narcissa quietly went over the details of the party. When champagne would be handed out, when the dancing would be, and all the various canapes to expect. Hermione was grateful that Narcissa hadn’t asked for more assistance with planning the party, but she suspected that she would have to play a bigger role in the wedding planning. Narcissa was an expert at these parties but Hermione didn’t think she would just take over all of it. 

“Hermione,” whispered Narcissa, pulling her out of mental images of lace and flowers. “I encourage you to speak both your mind and your heart today. I think you’ll find my son to be a good man and a good match. I know that the circumstances of the marriage are not even close to approaching ideal, but I think that you could find happiness and love while creating a beautiful family if you give each other a chance.”

Hermione looked up from her plate and found a somber, but hopeful woman looking back at her. “Thank you, Narcissa. I’ll keep that in mind.”

“Would you like to join me in the library?” asked Narcissa after a moment. “I’ve a few correspondence to go through and it would be nice to have some company.”

“Of course,” Hermione nodded. They rose and adjourned to the library with Hermione’s brain whirring even more than before.

\-----------------

Narcissa had left a few hours ago, but Hermione was still enraptured by the 1700’s Potions manual she was pouring over. She suspected that Snape had used it for reference because he had expanded on some of the ideas in his Advanced Potions textbook they had during sixth year. 

Hermione was thankful for living in the era that she did, as she likely wouldn’t have had any type of magical education if she had been born in the early 1900’s or before. But the concept of knowledge making in the early modern period had always fascinated her. 

Around lunch she had been able to keep down some toast and fruit, filling her stomach with more than just tea and half a scone. Her stomach still roiled, but the quiet morning in the library with Narcissa had been relaxing, easing her nerves slightly.

“Ever the academic,” said Draco from behind her couch, surprising her.

“I have to stay in my lane,” she replied, somewhat cheekily. “People expect me to be a know-it-all, so I have to do my best to know everything.”

“Fair enough, expectations can make lives more difficult,” he said quietly, walking around to the chair opposite her. As he sat, a full tea set appeared along with finger sandwiches, biscuits, and more fruit. 

She marked her place in the book, laying it on her lap. “I’m sure that you have a lot of experience with that.”

A charged statement to begin the conversation, something she found was necessary to not dance around. Hermione had tried this strategy to great effect at the Ministry, but it hadn’t made her any allies. 

“Yes, I have lots of experience with ridiculous expectations,” he said quietly. He poured her a new cup of tea, mixing it perfectly. “But you know that. That’s why we’re here.”

“ _Is_ that why we’re here?” she said sarcastically. 

He smirked at her. “Yes and no. I think we’re here so that we can start to talk through the mess that was our childhood, me and my Mother’s thoughts on Pureblood society, and finding a way to start moving forward. We want to make the best of this situation, right?”

She nodded. Hermione also settled in with her tea, that was quite the list of topics, and it was likely going to be a while. 

“If we want to make the best of the situation, then I think we need to get to know each other better. Which means I’m going to be completely open and honest with you. I’d hope you can do the same?”

She considered him and his request before answering. “I can try.”

“Fair.” He took a deep breath, blowing the air back out his mouth, and glued his eyes to his lap. “I know you’re dying to ask questions, so let’s start with that.”

She giggled because truth be told she had a long list of questions that would have surpassed the length of a Snape Potions essay. But at that current moment all she could ask was, “Why did you do it? Why did you interrupt the Wizengamot session and take me in?”

He smiled and raised his eyebrow. “ _That’s_ what you’re starting with? Not why did you take the dark mark or why did you tease me or are you actually different?”

Hermione shrugged, “I think I can reasonably answer those questions. You took the dark mark because you had to in order to keep your family safe, you teased me when we were younger because I was an easy target especially with the values your father ingrained in you, and I can see that you’re different. That’s fairly clear, to what extent, I’m not sure, but the question I asked is actually bothering me because I don’t know the answer. Volunteering to marry me, I can’t think of why you would do that.”

“Who wouldn’t want to marry Hermione Granger?”

She rolled her eyes, “A lot of people, apparently.”

Draco chuckled, “Just because Weasley is an idiot, and Potter is too proud to admit it, you’re a catch Granger.”

“Hermione,” she said before he could continue. It was a reflex, and she didn’t know what else to say to the surprising statement he had just made.

“Hermione,” he said slowly. “You are smart as a whip, an excellent conversationalist, independent, and know what you want. You’re _not_ a simpering, Pureblood debutante who just wants a large vault to play with, and tries to fill their days with inane chatter and tea parties. Not to mention your, um, physical appeal.”

Her head snapped up to look at him, finding his eyes moving over her sitting on the couch. 

“You, Draco Malfoy,” she said pointing at him, “Think that I, Hermione Granger, am attractive?”

He nodded, “Me and at least half of Hogwarts.”

A bellowing laugh escaped her mouth, one that caused her to double order, almost dropping her tea onto the priceless rug. 

“That’s rich. Nobody paid me any mind in a romantic way during school, with the exception of that idiot McLaggen, I was there for my brain and to help with homework.”

“Oh, please,” his eyes rolled as he spoke. “If anyone wasn’t infatuated with you before fourth year, the entirety of the male ball attendees had a hard on for you after seeing that periwinkle gown.”

She was aware that she was gaping at him, which was a habit she would surely need to try to curtail as Mistress of Malfoy Manor, but right now she wasn’t sure what to do. 

“You’re intimidating Granger, not to mention the two men who followed you around constantly during school.” He paused looking at her and putting his biscuit down. “Any wizard who’s interested, myself included, to a certain extent, would be worried of getting eaten up and spat back out or not being worthy enough.”

She stared at him for what felt like an hour, but was probably mere seconds before replying. 

“I guess I’ll have to take your word on that one… but it didn’t really answer my question. Why did you stop the hearing? Why declare yourself in front of everyone? Was it planned?”

Draco downed the rest of his tea, then sat forward in his chair, steepling his fingers together with his elbows on his knees. 

“Not really, to the last question. I felt uneasy after they had caught you. I had informed Mother of my thoughts, but I wasn’t sure what I was going to do. I didn’t know I would stand up or proclaim a contract until Kingsley started speaking. As to why… I think it was your impassioned speech during that sham of a hearing that Kingsley gave you before you left.”

“Glad to know someone besides Andromeda was listening to me,” she retorted. 

“Your reasoning was excellent as always. This is Pureblood society trying to integrate, and forcing young people to marry after fighting a war is barbaric,” he said shaking his head. Shifting back to get comfortable, he continued, “And if anyone shouldn’t have to do it, it’s you. You joined our world with little to no acceptance, took it by storm, single-handedly saved the savior of the Wizarding World, and then got shut out after our eighth year. And I knew that nobody was going to listen.” 

He munched on a biscuit then, waiting to see if she’d say anything, but she continued to just look at him and think. 

“I honestly was hoping that Krum would do the gentlemanly thing and marry you so you wouldn’t have to deal with all of this.”

She snorted, “He tried, but I wouldn’t let him.”

“Of course you wouldn’t,” he said smirking. “You’re basically Gryffindor’s mascot. But still, he could have at least impregnated you or something. Would have been simpler.”

“Simpler for who?”

“Everyone,” he said, shrugging. “Honestly, Granger, I think that you are better off marrying Krum than me. He’s respectable and doesn’t have a reputation or history a mile long-”

She snorted again, standing to point at him, “Don’t get all noble on me now, Draco Malfoy. You could have kept your mouth shut when you had the chance.”

He glared at her, “Don’t you think I know that? My Slytherin tendencies gave out as soon as I saw your mugshot plastered across the front page of _The Prophet_. You didn’t deserve that, and I knew that you wouldn’t take any horribly conceived deal that Greengrass proposed. Nor would Kingsley bail you out. So I decided to do something right, for once in my life.” 

Hermione nodded. “Well, repealing this law would make _everyone’s_ life better, we should just focus our energies on that.” 

“We agree there,” he said. “But we’ll be married before then. We’ll need to focus our attention there as well. At least make friendship believable to a certain extent, if not actually create one. Long nights researching will be easier that way.”

“I’m glad to hear we’re in more agreement than I previously thought,” she said. “But I have to know… what changed your mind about blood purity? You were so genuine while we were in school, and as sure as I am that your Father brainwashed you some, you believed the words, at least early on.”

He cleared his throat, looking at the table in front of them. 

“As sad as it may sound, it was when I took the mark. Seeing Voldemort that summer when he overtook the house, I was struck by how insane he was. I couldn’t even call him a man or a wizard really. Not to mention how rabid his followers were. They spouted even more ridiculous theories than my father did, most of which you proved to me were false.” He paused again, taking another deep breath, sighing out years of trauma. “I have never felt such excruciating pain, and while I layed on the floor, right before I passed out, I thought about how this type of sycophantic worship and pain wasn’t worth it, especially for beliefs that were mostly used for political reasons and were untrue. I continued the charade to keep my Mother safe, but my heart was far from committed to the cause.”

Hermione felt a pang in her chest, she felt bad for the boy. Similarly to how she had felt seeing him at school their sixth year. “I’m sorry that you had to go through all of that, Draco. I hope that someday we can talk more about it, that is… if you want to.”

He nodded, eating another biscuit like the sugar would chase away the bad memories. 

“I’m not going to ask about our early school years,” she said finally. “I think we all could have been better in those days, and I think I can see that you are not the same boy. But I will ask why you avoided me during our last year.”

He nodded, “Overall, I was trying to keep my head down. I didn’t have many friends at that point as the family and societal dynamics were still figuring themselves out. And while I was extremely tempted to spend more time with you and get to know you without your body guards, I assumed you wanted nothing to do with me.” 

She pulled back, surprise clear on her face. 

He laughed, “Like I said earlier, you’re a little intimidating Hermione. And you were so business-like in Ancient Runes…”

“You’ll find I can be very business-like when it’s something I want to achieve.”

He smiled, “Can I ask a question?” 

“Sure,” she nodded. 

“Those projects showed me just how brilliant you are. How were you not placed in Ravenclaw? I know that I said earlier you are a true Gryffindor, but I would think that the love of knowledge might have still won out…”

“I’m about to share something with you that I’ve never told anyone before-”

His surprise was evident now, “Not even Potter and Weasley?”

“No,” she shook her head. “As you’ll remember the hat took a bit to decide, as you and your cronies tried to argue was because I was a muggleborn, but the truth is… I was a hat stall.”

“But that’s a rumor, there’s no documented instance of it in _Hogwarts a History_.”

Hermione smiled, “I assure you it’s very real, but my understanding of the conversation with the hat is that it is rare. Only once every few decades maybe only once a century. The only one it could tell me about that involved someone I knew the name of was Severus Snape.”

She watched the realization dawn on Malfoy’s face. Severus set all sorts of school records in academics, showed incredible bravery and loyalty, yet had been placed in Slytherin, supposedly for his cunning.

“The hat said that it had the same problem with me. The smartest witch of my age, but not sure if Ravenclaw was best. It said I had equal amounts of traits from all the houses and wasn’t sure what to do. After I said I just wanted to make friends, not enemies or competitors, he placed me in Gryffindor.”

“But the song always talks about truest friends in Slytherin…”

“Because you all don’t take each others’ shite and are tightly knitted. If you can make friends with a Slytherin it will last forever because you all are so closely guarded. But I think the hat knew that you all would eat me alive if it put me in Slytherin. And sometimes I wonder if it takes some responsibility for Snape turning out the way he did. Obviously Severus was a complicated man, but the hat placing him in Slytherin did alter his trajectory I’m sure.”

“As did our placements in our rival houses.”

Again, Hermione nodded. “I think I agree with Bagshot, I think Hogwarts sorts too early. And there are too many expectations and assumptions put on the houses.”

“Hmm,” he said, mulling over her words. “That’s true. You and I are actually not that different if you disregard our roles in the war and our upbringing.”

“So most, if not all of our formative years?” she questioned, laughing. 

“Yes, but hear me out,” he said, raising his hands in defense. “We both enjoy reading, we did well in our courses. Strategy is important to us, but not in the same way it is in chess. Overanalyzing the minutia of every decision is a necessity. We put others before ourselves, while not wanting to let anyone get too close. Close friends are one thing, but telling all of our secrets is another. We both have one exception to that rule, your’s is Potter and mine is Theodore Nott. Family is important to a fault, and we both think we’re right all the time to the point of being incredibly stubborn.”

“Seems that you know me quite well already Mr. Malfoy, should I be worried that you stalked me before proposing? Learn all about my family standing and dowry?” she chuckled. 

He laughed, “This does sound quite a bit like a regency romance, doesn’t it?”

“In some ways yes, in others, no,” she said simply. Hermione didn’t quite want to commit to the implications of a romance, or the assumed ending. 

“But maybe we can make it work like the regency couples did? At least be friends?”

Hermione nodded. The conversation had been shorter than expected, but she felt that Malfoy’s change of heart was genuine. She was sure that she would continue to get more and more details in the coming days and months. 

“I think I’d like that,” she said. 

“Okay then, Granger, er, Hermione… I’m required to ask, what did you think of Belby’s latest publication?”

“It was abhorrent,” she said, firmly. “The man may have invented a vital potion in Wolfsbane, but he is just poking around in the dark for another success at this point.”

“Then we’re in agreement, and I think this is the start to a very beneficial friendship.”

“Good,” she said. “Now tell me every piece of gossip that you have and will be useful for tomorrow night.”

“Let’s start with Lord Greengrass,” he drawled. Their conversation carried well past dinner and into the night, laying the foundation for a tentative but successful partnership.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Eeeek, I hope this chapter was worth the wait and anticipation. 
> 
> We'll have another long chapter next time as we dive into the Engagement party!
> 
> Thanks to everyone who is following the story, leaving comments, and kudos. It really does help get my writing back on track when I need it.


	9. It's Going to Be a Long Night: Engagement Party Pt 1

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Hi Everyone!
> 
> Thanks again for sticking with this story :) Today we'll have the first half of the engagement party. I had intended it to be one chapter, but then it grew pretty quickly and it's now going to be a two parter. I'm hopeful the second part will be out soon!
> 
> Enjoy!

"Feelin' myself, I'm feelin' myself, I'm feelin' my  
Feelin' myself, I'm feelin' myself, I'm feelin' my

I'm with some hood girls lookin' back at it  
And a good girl in my tax bracket (Uh)  
Got a black card that'll let Saks have it  
These Chanel bags is a bad habit"  
\- _Feeling Myself_ , Beyonce & Nicki Minaj

**1 March, 2002**

There was an unsettling quiet in Malfoy Manor the morning of Hermione and Draco’s engagement party. After finishing breakfast, Hermione retired to the library to review Narcissa’s flash cards. There was quite the list of people that would be at the party. She recognized many faces, and names as well. But that was different than being able to make polite conversation at a hoity-toity Pureblood party.

Narcissa had luckily also provided relations, titles, jobs, and hobbies, but also all of the necessary gossip she had about them. There was even extra space for Hermione to add her own notes. She was sipping coffee and pouring over the information one more time when Draco wandered in. 

“Hiding from Mother’s glam squad?” he asked with humor in his voice. 

She laughed and checked her watch, “No, I’ve still got an hour or so before I have to worry about that.”

“Well, my best advice is not to try and hide. When I was younger I used to try and hide in my closet before balls and it never ended well.”

Hermione nodded, “I had no intention of even trying. I think I’ve learned better than that.”

“Speaking of learning, what kind of dirt has Mother uncovered on our esteemed guests?”

“Quite a bit actually,” she said with a smirk. “There’s at least three illegitimate children, dozens of affairs, some consensual and some not, possible money laundering, and another gambled fortune. How does she learn all of this?”

“Mostly at other ridiculous events we have to attend. The other ladies of the elite love to tell her information so that they might make their way into her ‘inner circle.’ What they don’t know is that her inner circle is limited to me, and her sister Andromeda. They’ll never make it into the true regard of Narcissa Malfoy. You’re probably the only candidate getting considered any time soon.”

“Your mum really is a genius,” Hermione said shaking her head. The woman had so much social power and was very bright, a dangerous combination. The transformation of the family made much more sense the more Hermione got to know the other witch.

Draco smiled and said, “Yes, she really is. And I’m frankly terrified of what the two of you can accomplish together.”

Hermione laughed and motioned to the chair next to her. 

“Anything you want to add about the people I’m going to be forced to socialize with tonight?”

He thought for a second before motioning to see the flashcard stack. Hermione gave them to him, noting how soft his fingers were when incidental contact was made. Draco’s face was thoughtful as he sorted them in a way that made sense to him. 

The largest stack was deemed “easy,” the medium stack deemed “problematic,” and the smallest stack deemed “friendly.” That didn’t bode well for Hermione, she would have preferred a larger friendly stack.

The friendly stack was mostly former classmates: Theodore Nott, Blaise Zabini, Roger Davies, and Tracey Davis. But it also included Andromeda, Neville’s grandmother, and Kingsley Shacklebolt. 

“You can’t honestly tell me that Kingsley qualifies in the friendly stack?” she said angrily.

“I know that he did nothing for you, but he does mean well and I think ultimately would have helped you if I hadn’t stepped in,” Draco said with a shrug. “He’s not going to go out of his way to try to hurt you.”

“But he’s gone full politician!”

Draco snorted, “That’s why he’s not in the ‘easy' category. He had to go full politician. Shacklebolt would have gotten eaten alive if he hadn’t shifted to a ‘politics first’ approach. The friendly stack doesn’t mean that _you_ have to be friendly to _them_. It just means that they will be friendly to you and I. Combined with the ‘easy’ stack, which just indicates people who are trying to be in good standing with our family and won’t gossip or make a scene, the majority of the people you’ll speak with tonight will be incredibly nice to you. At the very least, polite.”

“Do I know most of the ‘problematic’ stack?” she asked.

“Yes,” he said, taking a slightly more serious tone. “Lord Greengrass is at the top of it, but I’m not really worried about you handling him. You know what he’s upset about and have already taken him to task. His wife will try to bring him to heel since it’s a social event anyway. The Flint family will be there, and your perceived snub will likely make them ornery. And there are of course a few families who are resentful like the Goyles, Burkes, and Fawleys. They likely will avoid you and be short in conversation, but will be looking to cooperate with Greengrass behind the scenes.”

“You’re dancing around the Weasleys,” she whispered, fingering the cards that hadn’t been sorted yet. All of the photos waving back at her sported bright red hair.

A long sigh danced past Draco’s lips and he turned to look at her. “I am going to let you handle that one. It’s obviously no secret our families don’t get along, but you have a relationship with the family. I trust that you will know what to say to each member. Just know that I will step in if I feel like Molly gets out of hand. And there is no way I’m letting you near Weasley alone.”

“We’re not married yet, Draco. You can’t tell me what to do,” she fought back, somewhat half-heartedly. She didn’t really want to face Ronald either. 

“No, but we will be soon, and it’s expected that I’ll be with you most of the night anyway. Ronald Weasley is… well, I have a lot of choice words to describe him, none that seem to do my anger at him justice. He obviously hurt you right after the war as well as recently, and I’m not letting him do that again.”

Hermione’s brain began to spin. Draco had been fairly friendly, and was genuinely attempting to get to know her better, but being protective was new. Well, not _that_ new given his need to free her from a likely prison sentence, but this was specifically protective. She tucked away his defensiveness for a later date, not wanting to get into anything before the party.

“Okay,” she said, drawing out the latter vowels. “Am I really going to hate the beauty prep all day today?”

Draco laughed, “Not quite. Mother’s team is going to pamper you quite a bit. So I think you should do your best to enjoy it. So just try to remember that when they pluck you raw and wrestle your hair into submission.”

With a wink Draco left the library and Hermione determinedly studied her guest list even more, worrying over the night ahead. 

\---------

The pampering worked to distract Hermione for a while. It reminded her of spa days with her mother, a treat whenever she had returned home from Hogwarts that her mother had dubbed ‘girls time.’ Hermione would tell her censored stories of school adventures, and her mother would give her all the new family and dental practice gossip. Seaweed wraps and mani pedis would start the day, which always finished in the sauna rooms. 

This made the prep somewhat bittersweet, but it was the first time that Hermione could remember since before the Christmas Holidays that she had well and truly relaxed. It seemed absurd that she could relax in Malfoy Manor, on the precipice of marrying Draco Malfoy, but it was true. On the run and sitting in a cell deep in the Ministry was hardly a time for reflection or a nap. Her crusade to overturn the law before that had been worse than studying for NEWTs.

The bath was scented with lemongrass and verbena and kept warm with magic. Hermione was told to soak as long as she wanted, and was awoken by a house elf after about forty-five minutes. Then her skin was exfoliated until it shined, with lotions and elixirs mixed in to make it soft to the touch. 

Her hair was next, two elves poured unknown potions into it, letting them sit while they worked on her nails. Her fingers were kept with a nude polish, but her toes were painted gold. When the elves were satisfied with her curls’ level of saturation, they began to rinse and dry lightly. That’s when Narcissa came in. 

“Hermione, my dear, how was your afternoon?”

“Lovely,” she answered truthfully. “It’s been really lovely to actually relax.”

“Good,” she said quietly, watching Hermione closely in the mirror. “Are you ready for tonight? Mentally, I mean. It’s a lot to wrestle with.”

Hermione nodded, “I think I’m as prepared as possible. As you say, it will be a tricky evening, but I think it will also be a successful one.”

“Good,” said Narcissa with a smile. “Now about your hair, I was thinking…”

With the direction of the Malfoy matriarch, Hermione’s hair was beautifully swept into a somewhat 1920’s style updo. The bun sat behind her ear subtly, and the hair on the opposite side in front of her face was put into dramatic waves. Something very different from Narcissa’s very smooth and chic french twist. 

“You need to be a little dramatic tonight,” she said before Hermione could ask or make a comparison. “This will go nicely with your dress, and it will make you and Draco appear as united individuals. You can’t both do sleek, especially with your hair’s… reputation.”

Appraising the look in the mirror, Hermione nodded, waiting as the elves and Narcissa debated the merit of a smoky eye or something more subtle. The subtle look won over, her eyes getting a mixture of different nude and brown colors, but her lips received a deep burgundy lipstick that would be similar to her gown. 

“We can’t go too dramatic all over,” said Narcissa. “Especially with the truly exquisite necklace and earrings that Draco’s giving you later. You’ll be dripping with diamonds, my dear. And the old hags will be clutching their pearls.”

The wry smile playing on Narcissa’s lips made Hermione smirk in response. Maybe Draco was right to be scared, she and Narcissa together could be dangerous.

“Well that will be yet another new experience that I look forward to,” said Hermione. 

“Oh, and Hermione,” said Narcissa, walking in front of the mirror to interrupt Hermione’s continued examination of her face. “I give you complete control to use any of the dirt I presented you with. I’d ask that you try to be measured with it, but if you have to throw it in someone’s face, please do. It will show them that we’ve accepted you into the family and Pureblood circle and they should not try to play with you.”

“Draco’s already planning on helping with that, I think,” said Hermione. “He’s going on my hip like a permanent sticking charm.”

Narcissa’s eyes sparkled as she turned to leave, “As he should,” she said. “I’ll see you in about an hour. Oh, and check your chest of drawers before you get dressed! I have a surprise for you.”

This confused Hermione slightly. She was sitting in her robe, but had already put on the appropriate undergarments for her dress. If Narcissa was now gifting her lingerie, well they needed to have a less Slytherin conversation about what Hermione was doing with her son. 

She found a beautiful silk and lace bustier that would hide beneath her gown perfectly. There were matching high waisted knickers and a garter belt. Hermione rolled her eyes as there was no way she’d be wearing stockings tonight. She’d be nervous enough and didn’t need another layer of fabric to sweat through.

But she did relent to put on the undergarments, it was difficult to say ‘no’ to Narcissa. Even if nobody would see the lingerie, it would likely make her feel better. As much as she wanted to deny the trope, women’s sexy underwear that fit like a glove _did_ make her feel better. 

After fidgeting for a few more minutes, Hermione relented and started to put her gown on. The woven plum fabric was enchanting. It set off her skin tone nicely, and felt nice on. The cut itself was conservative, but showed her collarbones nicely.

A knock on the door rushed the elves to finish zipping her up before she called for whoever it was to enter. 

She heard expensive shoes clicking on the floor before Draco reached the rug and paused. 

“Wow, Granger you look-”

“Different?” she said with a laugh. 

“I was going to say amazing, but that works too.”

“Your Mother has successfully turned me into a Pureblood it would seem,”

When she turned to look at Draco instead of the mirror he found him smiling and shaking her head. 

“No, she certainly did not,” he said. “She just ensured that you were covered in expensive clothing and had the best beauty routine imagineable. But you’ll stand out tonight, and likely be the cover subject of the next three _Witch Weekly’s_. I can see it now: Muggleborn Shakes Up the Ball Scene.” 

She blushed slightly before noticing his dress robes. They were fairly standard as far as wizarding dress robes went, but they were fitted impeccable. The only color was green jeweled cufflinks and tie tack. His shoes were also incredibly shiny.

“Thank you, Draco,” she said. 

Nodding, Draco brought a large, flat, velvet box to her attention and lifted the lid. Sitting against a black silk background was a gorgeous necklace. A choker of large diamonds that would span across her neck. Hanging from these large diamonds were strings of smaller diamonds and pearls. It would drip nicely down into her cleavage. 

There were also a set of cluster earrings; diamonds and pearls clumped together that sit on the post and hang slightly from the lobe. Now she understood why Narcissa had insisted on subtle make up. 

“Draco this is- I… I’m not sure what to say. Wow.”

He gave her a small smile, “I’m glad that you… like it?”

“Yes, it’s amazing. But much more grandiose than I am used to.”

He nodded, indicating for her to turn. “Well, the Malfoy way is pretty elaborate. I’m just initiating you into the lifestyle.”

She could hear him working the clutch lightly and then the cold gold link was on her neck. Draco’s fingers brushed against the column of her neck and closed the link. The jewelry was heavy, a fitting physical representation of the responsibility and life that she was now leading. He presented the earrings to her to add. 

“Very elegant Miss Granger,” he said in his ‘public’ voice. She laughed and shook her head. “Good, you’ll need that smile and a laugh to get through the evening. You ready to head downstairs?”

“Yes, thank you Draco. Truly.”

\------------

The receiving line was beginning to get tedious. Upon her estimation she had been standing next to Draco and Narcissa smiling and shaking hands or curtsying for roughly an hour and a half. Luckily, it appeared that the line was finally starting to shorten. So far, as Draco suggested, it had been easy. Everyone was polite, and this was not the place to talk much. Many families wished she and Draco well and promised to speak with them later. 

So far, Blaise Zabini and Theodore Nott had been their longest conversations, both very blatantly sucked up to Narcissa with deep bows, and bises. They did the same to Hermione, telling her they were excited to welcome her to their group, and had requested dances for later in the evening. Draco rolled his eyes throughout, before giving them both a stern handshake and half hug. 

Relief and worry swirled in Hermione’s mind as she realized she had not spoken to any of her ‘problematic’ pile yet. She saw Kingsley’s hat shortly down the line and she attempted to take deep breaths while Narcissa placated a society wife about an upcoming garden party.

“You’ll be fine,” whispered Draco. “Like you’ve seen, nobody will want to hold up the line. I’m sure Greengrass got here late to be last, in which case… we’ll have a nice conversation. But you’ll be fine.”

“Thanks,” she whispered as the Flints approached. 

“Draco,” said Marcus, bowing to Draco. “Narcissa,” he said bowing and moving to kiss her hand. She did not extend her hand further and just ducked her head in acknowledgement. 

The snub of Hermione was quite clear, but she stood there as tall as she could muster. She didn’t really want to talk to Marcus anyway, he had always been nasty at school, and the family was tangentially involved with Voldemort. She counted herself lucky that Greengrass hadn’t forced her to marry him. 

“Marcus,” said Draco. “Good to see you. You remember my fiance, Hermione Granger?”

Hermione smirked as Marcus was forced to mutter a yes, and turned to bow and greet her. 

Marcus’ mother spoke with Narcissa briefly and they moved on. 

Kingsley came a few party-goers later. 

“Malfoys,” said Kingsley as he bowed. 

“Minister, so lovely that you could clear your schedule to come to our party,” said Narcissa, graciously. 

“Of course,” said Kingsley. “Miss Granger, I am glad to see that you are well.”

“Thank you Minister,” she said with a small dip of the knees. 

“I’d like to speak with you later,” he whispered. 

“Of course,” she said with a small nod. “But Draco will likely be standing with me.”

“All the better,” whispered Kingsley. “Enjoy the rest of your hosting duties, I will see you all later.”

More deep breaths kept the plastered smile on her face, and Draco reached behind her to touch her back. 

“You’re alright?” 

“Yes,” she said. 

When she expected him to remove his hand, Draco kept it there for the next two families. Using it as a way to introduce her. None of the groups seemed particularly excited about talking to her, but Draco forced the issue quite smoothly.

Before she realized, Molly Weasley was standing in front of her and pulling her into a much too tight hug. 

“Hermione, dear, it’s so good to see you,” gushed Molly. Hermione pulled back with as polite a smile as possible, looking to see who had attended with the witch. She counted Arthur, Percy, and George all around the Weasley matriarch, but didn’t see Ronald or Lavendar, thank Morgana. 

“Good to see you as well, Molly. Same to you Arthur, George, Percy,” she said tightly. “You all know, Narcissa, and Draco, obviously.”

“Yes, of course,” Molly said in a strained voice. “Thank you for welcoming us into your… lovely home.”

“The pleasure is mine, surely, Mr. and Mrs. Weasley,” crooned Narcissa. “It’s been a long time, probably since the Yule Ball, the year after the war? We don’t see your family at many of the society events.”

Molly nodded, not noticing the slight in Narcissa’s comment, but the tops of Arthur’s ears turned red, and George looked like he wanted to be anywhere but here. The twin made eye contact with Hermione before quickly looking away again.

“Come now Mother, Percy and I see each other at Wizengamot sessions frequently enough,” said Draco cooly. His public mask and voice had been in place most of the evening, but there was some ice to it now. 

“Of course, Lord Malfoy and I have collaborated many times,” said Percy in his prattish voice. “I believe we were both going to vote the same way before the stunt he pulled,” he said as an off handed comment. George smacked him in the back of the head before either Malfoy could comment. 

“Well I’m glad to see your family is looking out for my best interests, even now,” said Hermione with every ounce of sarcasm she could muster. 

“Our family is always here for you, Hermione,” said Molly. And as Hermione stared her in the eyes, it seemed like the witch believed every word she was saying. No mention of the betrayal when Ron left her, no inkling of the hurt Hermione felt when she was uninvited to Sunday dinners, and no thought to what it meant that nobody spoke out for her when she had protested the law, let alone brought to trial to be sent to Azkaban. 

“We’re so glad that we have the support of your family in this difficult time,” said Narcissa politely. “Hermione means a lot to Draco and I and we are doing all that we can to welcome her to the family and protect her.”

George looked skeptical, Molly looked like she wanted to compete with Narcissa for Hermione’s affection, and Arthur and Percy started moving their family into the ballroom. 

“Please come see me later, Hermione, dear!” spurted Molly as the family began to move away.

She nodded. Draco squeezed her hand. 

“Glad to know that woman is still delusional,” muttered Narcissa. 

Draco snorted before slamming a frown onto his face as the Greengrass family walked up, signaling the end of the receiving line. 

With an exceedingly dramatic bow, Lord Greengrass greeted them, “Lord Malfoy, Lady Malfoy. Thank you for welcoming myself and my family into your wonderful home.”

“Lord Greengrass,” nodded Narcissa. “I’m glad you could join us to celebrate such a joyous occasion as Miss Granger joining our family.”

“Something that my bill and hard work in the Wizengamot made possible,” he said, turning to Hermione. “Wouldn’t you agree, Miss Granger?”

“You certainly had a hand in my situation,” Hermione said tightly. “But I choose to direct most of my gratitude to Draco for my current… situation.”

“Miss Granger,” said Lady Greengrass, jumping in quickly. “You must simply join Narcissa next time she comes over for tea. I’m sure my daughters look forward to pulling you into their social circle. You’ll be a Malfoy after all and us society ladies must stick together.”

Hermione had to try very hard not to laugh, and Draco didn’t quite succeed, but covered his with a fake cough. Astoria and Daphne looked at her with thinly veiled disdain. Daphne had never given her the time of day at school, and they were complete opposites. The blonde was desperate to marry and become a housewife spending her husband’s money while Hermione aspired to a career. The problem with Daphne’s plan was her father had thus far been unable to pawn her off on anyone. 

Astoria was another story. The girl had initially been promised to Draco in a deal made by Lucius and Hyperion. The ‘contract’ was signed before the children went to Hogwarts, but as soon as Lucius had been sentenced to Azkaban, Lord Greengrass tried to distance the family from the Malfoys. Additionally, Draco wanted nothing to do with Astoria and nullified the contract. Astoria, however, still desperately wished that she could claim her prized proposed husband and his vaults. The woman had gone so far to tell all her friends that they were still engaged and had tried to spike a drink of Draco’s with a love potion. The death glare she was giving Hermione was comical. 

“Thank you, Lady Greengrass,” said Hermione. “I’ll keep that in mind.”

Draco began to chew on his lip as the girls’ faces turned further sour. 

“I’m not sure that our upstanding daughters will want to associate with… former criminals,” said Lord Greengrass. “We must still maintain some level of dignity in Pureblood society, my Dear.”

Draco took a quick step forward, but Narcissa’s words stopped him in his tracks. 

“Yes, I find I must agree, Lord Greengrass. The majority of Pureblood families really are missing any type of integrity,” she said in a dangerously even voice. “Standing up for what they believe in and accepting consequences really is important. Something that this family has _always_ done. We don’t hide behind lies and indifference. The Malfoys value intelligence, compassion, and forgiveness. We work despite the oleaginous nature of the Wizengamot to hopefully distill these values into the rest of wizarding society, and I mean _all_ of wizarding society.”

Lord Greengrass looked somewhat taken aback by Narcissa’s speech and was looking for a way out, while Lady Greengrass was glaring daggers at her husband for his unnecessary jab. 

Narcissa took a step closer to Hyperion and glared at him, dropping her tone even lower, “I hope that you remember the value of this family when you step into my ballroom tonight. I hope that you recognize the damage you have begun to inflict in the guise of saving society, when in reality you’re only looking to better your family. And I hope you remember this moment when you lose the Ministerial elections in a few years.”

Standing back up to her full height, she nodded to the Greengrass women before turning to Draco and Hermione. 

“Shall we enter the ballroom, children? I believe I’d like some champagne to refresh myself after such tiring conversation.”

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Narcissa: *mic drop*
> 
> Can't wait for all the drama and *sexual tension* to unfold next chapter. 
> 
> As always, thank you all for the kudos and kind words! Even if I don't get to them right away I always try to respond and really appreciate the feedback :)


	10. It Was a Long Night: Engagement Party Part II

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I'm so so so sorry this update took so long, I think I have compelling reasons for taking my time (which you can read more about below) but I just want to start with a big thank you to all of you sticking with me!
> 
> I hope you enjoy the rest of the engagement party!

"And I want to walk with you  
On a cloudy day  
In fields where the yellow grass grows knee-high  
So won't you try to come

Come away with me and we'll kiss  
On a mountaintop  
Come away with me  
And I'll never stop loving you"  
\- Norah Jones, _Come Away With Me_

<1 March, 2002

The champagne _was_ excellent, as expected. And it did help Hermione refresh herself before turning to the large crowd that was now accumulated in the Malfoy Manor ballroom. This was apparently the ‘greater’ ballroom, because using the lesser ballroom for this sort of event would have been ‘ghastly’ and wouldn’t have fit all their guests. 

The ballroom seemed to be one of the rooms in the manor that had just been conserved, not necessarily remodeled. The ceiling was mirrored making the room look even larger than it already was, and allowing for sparkling light across the expansive space. It was very likely that there were many size charms on the room as well. Gold leaf was packed into all of the minute details of the mouldings, and the walls had some sort of wall paper. But Draco claimed the room changed based on the event, today Narcissa had gone for the ‘regal’ setting. 

While observing the room, and trying to ignore the crowd, Hermione sipped from the flute of champagne Draco had handed her. Clearly expensive, she felt the bubbles sizzle down her throat. It was super smooth, and she’d have to be careful with it, it could go to her head very quickly.

“Really, Mother?” whispered Draco after downing a flute of champagne in one go. “Did we really have to start with that?”

“He’s such an ass,” said Narcissa with a frown. The swear caused both Hermione and Draco to do a double take. “Normally his stick of a wife will step in to keep him from embarrassing her too much at events, but his smugness knows no bounds. Draco, remind me how he got power in the Wizengamot?”

“Because everyone was too afraid to doubt his neutral status to test it, but knew that he would push the pureblood agenda. Anyone who disagrees with him is outnumbered, and typically have some sort of planted scandal come out in _The Prophet_ after they speak out.”

Narcissa smirked, “Sounds like it’s about time we give him a taste of his own medicine then. Still no prospects for young Daphne?”

“None,” said Draco. 

“And Astoria?”

Draco snorted, “Still as delusional as ever. Even when Hyperion finds someone that wants to marry her, she claims she’s ‘betrothed’ and is not interested.”

“Excellent,” said Narcissa. 

Hermione was delighted to get a behind the scenes look at how the Malfoys operated, but she still had no idea how they got all of their information. Could it really be as simple as being the Malofys? 

The answer to that question was yes. While hors d'oeuvres and more champagne were passed, Narcissa and Draco toured her around the room, introducing her and conversing with various families. Hermione learned a lot during those short conversations. 

The ladies continuously dropped small hints of gossip in front of Narcissa to try and gain favor. Things like who was working on betrothal contracts with who, who had been ‘deflowered,’ what businesses were dealing in, and who was invited to the next Ministry event. Neither she nor Narcissa said much of anything, the women just gave up the information like it was a daily routine. 

Draco’s route of learning information did require slightly more work, but not a lot. Both Theo and Blaise shared what they had learned so far including affairs and money being passed under the table. Other members of the Wizengamot involved a little more politicking and talking shop, but deals that were being done, upcoming legislation, and voter suppression were all topics of conversation. Hermione just stood next to Draco, drinking her champagne, and taking it all in. 

And offhand comment by one of the pureblooded members she didn’t know did take her back at one point. 

“Honestly, I’m surprised there wasn’t more pushback to the legislation. It was necessary, _obviously_ , but the data wasn’t as convincing as 1689. And the ‘modernity’ that you young people like to push was an obstacle we had anticipated.”

Hermione was about to jump in with a bitter remark when Draco squeezed her hand in his and said something non-committal. “I’m sure that everyone who fought hard in the war as children, mind you, wanted to do all that they could to help society. And this has become a riveting conversation, but I fear we must attend to our hosting duties.”

Draco slid his hand down Hermione’s arm to the small of her back and led her back towards Narcissa. 

“Good save, Granger,” he said in a whisper. “They forgot that you were there as they tend to do whenever there’s a society girl in the group. I have a feeling you’ll learn to relish that, as long as you don’t put your foot in your mouth too often.”

“I would have given him a piece of my mind, I _did_ push back,” she whispered harshly. 

“Granger, I cannot even begin to tell you how excited I am to watch you disembowel the Wizengamot at formal events, but _please_ wait until we’re married. That gives you the biggest, most indestructible shield you could hope for.”

“You and your Mother won’t get any backlash when I’m formally tied to the family?”

“No,” he smirked. “I’m sure that everyone will whisper behind our backs about how we need to get you in hand, but we’re both more than happy to take you off your leash once you share our last name.”

This caused Hermione pause as they continued to weave through the crowd. It felt too good to be true, but based off of both their comments tonight, neither seemed too in favor of current politics or the marriage law. Hermione Malfoy was going to be one of their ways of pushing back. Was that why Draco wanted to marry her? He had obviously said it was out of compassion and ‘doing the right thing’ but were there ulterior, political motives at play? 

Hermione’s doubts crept back in and she was shocked that they had left in the first place. 

“Are you ready to stand and look nice while I give the toast?” Draco asked. 

She nodded, “Yes, it will be nice not being the one giving the speech at an event for once.” 

He led her over to a very staged set of steps that didn’t really go anywhere before handing her a refreshed glass of champagne. 

“Should be short,” he said. “And then we’ll do our waltz and I’m sure the serious conversations and requests for dances will descend upon us after that. You can dance with whoever you’d like, and say no to whoever you don’t want to dance with.”

Hermione raised her wrist with a wry smile, “No dance card? I’m surprised. How am I supposed to keep track of all these men of the elite?”

Draco smirked and reached into his inner pocket to pull out what she assumed were his speech notes, but with a whisper it transfigured into a smaller card with a loop of ribbon. When he placed it on her wrist, his fingertips made delicate contact with her pulse point. 

She flipped it over and found that just his name existed on the first side of the card, and continued on the other side. At the very bottom of the card she could make out ‘Theodore,’ ‘Blaise,’ and ‘George - if you must.’

“Trying to steak your claim, Mr. Malfoy?” she said with an attempt at the Malfoy arched brow.

“We’ll need to work on your eyebrow flexibility, Granger. And, no, I’m not trying to ‘stake my claim,’ you’re not a piece of meat.” She snorted, and he smiled, “But even if you were… I already have staked my claim” His voice was low and masculine, there was some gravel to it. “Greengrass might think he can interfere, but I’m not letting anything happen to you.”

Narcissa gave them both a somewhat expectant look and then a short nod, as to say _get a move on and stop flirting, you’re keeping people waiting_.

Draco gave a short nod back, putting his public mask in place. That quick of a change practically confirmed Draco’s knowledge and use of Occlumency. 

Draco took her hand and helped her up two of the steps and he took one more past her. He cast a subtle sonorous and tapped delicately on his champagne glass. Quiet moved through the room like the tide, and suddenly the wizarding gentry equivalent were all staring at her. And her fiancé.

“On behalf of the Malfoy family, I would like to thank everyone for attending. My Mother takes great pride in planning, and I must say this event is perfection.” He paused for polite clapping, and Hermione watched the women around Narcissa congratulate her. Narcissa looked overjoyed at the praise while trying to stay modest. Obviously the woman was much more than her events and housewidow duties, but her public face was the most important right now. 

“We are all gathered here to celebrate the merging of the prestigious house of Malfoy and the incomparable Miss Hermione Granger. I may be biased,” another perfect pause for some polite chuckles, “but I believe this is the best addition to the family line in a long time.” Draco turned to smile at her and she looked up at him to smile back. If it wasn’t an incredibly staged and forced situation, it would have been the beginning of a turning point. 

“I feel incredibly fortunate for Miss Granger to have accepted my offer,” she almost snorted, like she had much of a choice. “And I believe that we will find prosperity in marriage. May Magic bless our union, and may Magic bless you all.” With that Draco lifted his glass to her, and she returned the gesture with a nod. 

Draco then turned and raised his flute to those in attendance, and the crowd mumbled a “May Magic bless you,” and raised their glasses. She made contact with Narcissa who was beaming back at her with her own glass. She winked and began to drink as Hermione noticed Draco was doing the same. She followed with a small sip, letting the bubbles dance across her tongue again. 

Draco’s grey eyes met hers and the edges of his mouth were crinkling into as much of a genuine smile as his shields would allow. Hermione found herself smiling back automatically, recognizing that she had truly begun to relax around the wizard. Kindness had gotten both of them to become more comfortable with each other, which was good, because now he was taking her drink and setting them on a small table. He then took her hand and began to lead her to the dance floor. 

Hermione moved her free hand to allow her skirt more room for movement, raising the crown of her head to the ceiling. She hoped to project confidence, leaving little room for judgement outside her status as less than pureblooded. Her gown, jewels, and arm candy suggested that she belonged in the upper echelon, so she wanted to continue the charade as best she could. 

As if orchestrated, the crowd moved to clear the dance floor and the quartet began to warm their strings. Draco paraded her in a dramatic circle before pulling them face to face. She could already tell his leading skills were excellent, and they would have no problem getting through the waltz. 

Keeping their main hand hold, Draco placed his left foot slightly behind his right, dipping his head and bending at the waist to drop into a small bow. Hermione in return dipped her head, dropping into a deep curtsey. The first notes of the violin bow filled the room and he moved her into his personal space. She accepted, stepping in at an off-set and placed her hand delicately across the top of his bicep. Draco floated his right hand onto her shoulder blade before shifting it down slightly due to their height difference. 

Taking a deep breath as Draco began to start moving her, she was assaulted by the same scents she had experienced being ushered out of the Ministry. Bergamot and spices, but also now a hint of smoke and herbs. She knew he liked to brew as a hobby still, but the underlying scent confirmed he had spent time doing so earlier today. 

She also still smelled the floral scent she had found the first time she had turned into his space. Hermione originally thought it was the peony stuck into his robe lapel, but it was still present now. Maybe his soap? Or his shampoo? It floated on top of all the other masculine notes in an exquisite way. It reminded her a lot of Narcissa’s garden, perhaps it was something he had created himself. 

As Draco took their first step on the heavy down beat, the point of contact between his hand and her back began to heat slightly. She could feel their connection there strongly and the study pressure of his fingers and palm started radiating heat. To make the movement simpler, she allowed herself to inch closer to him. 

“You’re very tense, Granger,” he whispered. 

“Hermione,” she whispered back. 

“Hermione then,” he purred. “You’re tense, if you relax you’ll move much more naturally. And dare I say, you might enjoy it.”

Draco’s hint of a smirk made her smile, “I’m trying to relax,” she said. “But I also am trying to prove that I can fit in if I need to.”

He snorted lightly, “You might fool a few people Hermione, but they’re going to talk nonetheless. Relax, and let me lead you a little. Have some fun.”

A deep breath allowed her to drop her shoulders away from her ears even more, and she looked up at Draco who was actually smiling at her, before he turned to navigate the floor again. Thankfully after a couple minutes, Narcissa sent Blaise and Theo out with some random girls to signal that everyone should join them. Hermione barely noticed the change, as she was still in a bubble with Draco.

Once she did relax, she found she _did_ enjoy dancing with him. It was the most intimate act she had shared with him, let alone any men in a long time. Normally she spent balls trying to worm her way into Ministry spaces she was shut out of. 

When the song came to a close, Draco spun her out and back in, which landed her much closer to him than when they had been waltzing. His eyes glittered looking at her face, shifting between her lips and her eyes, once daring to look at her collarbones. For half a second, Hermione thought she saw admiration, but his eyes soon glazed over with Occlumency shields and he gave her his public smile before bowing and leading her back to where Narcissa stood. 

Hermione’s stomach had been fluttering in the thirty seconds that she and Draco stared at each other, but the moment had quickly turned. It further confused her feelings and made the disconnect between her body and her brain even more clear.

\--------------------

“You do know it’s a ruse, right?” came a whisper in her ear sometime later. 

Hermione startled, but couldn’t remove her eyes from Draco foxtrotting with Astoria. She was laughing in a vapid way, and he was politely still speaking. 

“Yes, or at least I think it is,” she answered, turning to find Blaise Zabini smiling at her. “He’s pretty convincing.”

“He has to be,” replied the tall wizard. “I know you’ve figured out his public face by now. And I guarantee that Astoria asked him.”

“She did,” confirmed Hermione. 

“And the foxtrot is naturally playful, if Draco didn’t play along, it would be weird. That playfulness is actually why I’m here,” said Blaise, stepping in front of her. He offered her his hand, “I’m here to wipe that jealous look off your face and get your wonderful smile back.”

Hermione laughed and was tempted to protest her supposed jealousness, but instead said, “Mr. Zabini, you are aware that I am spoken for?”

“Of course, and I would never attempt to take on the Malfoy family all by myself. But I have it on good authority that my name is on that trite, little dance card of yours.”

“Well then I suppose I _must_ dance with you.”

Blaise winked and escorted her onto the floor. After a few seconds to adjust to his leading style, much looser and playful than Draco’s or Theo’s, she struck their conversation back up.

“Theo ratted me out, didn’t he?”

“Theo already? And all I got was Mr. Zabini, that won’t do. I can’t have dear Theodore sneaking into the best man spot while I have my back turned.”

“No need to worry, Blaise,” she emphasized his name, “I think you’ve got it on lock.”

“Good, I’m glad my charm still merits some recognition. Tell me, Miss Granger, have you been enjoying yourself tonight?” She turned to look at him after hearing his faux serious tone, only to find him smirking. Hermione was beginning to think that all the Slytherins took lessons in perfecting the look because it was clearly not just a Malfoy trait. 

“Enjoying myself might be a little too optimistic, but I’m not upset by any means. The only ‘rough’ spot was trying not to punch Lord Greengrass in the face, but I did get to listen to Narcissa eviscerate him.”

“Oh, I do love when she tears people down, wish I had been there. First time watching her string someone’s organs out of their bodies?”

“Yes,” she laughed. “But I knew that Narcissa had it in her. She’s much more conniving than anyone gives her credit for.”

“You’ll find that a lot of people know things in this world, but don’t want to admit it to themselves or they choose to ignore it. I think you’ll be a fast learner of the game and come to enjoy it. Everyone knows that Narcissa is whip smart, and she can tear people down, but they want to think she wouldn’t do it to them. They want to think she’s the perfect example of a pureblood matriarch who followed all the rules shoved down our throats as kids. They want to believe they can be her.”

“That makes sense,” she said. “She is eerily similar to the power woman I pictured myself becoming when I was five.”

“Granger, you’re well on your way,” Blaise said. “You’ll fit in just fine next to Narcissa and Draco.”

“I’m glad someone is confident in my abilities,” she muttered. At the same time, Blaise snorted, before he tried to turn the corner.

“You do realize, Miss Granger, that Draco will worship the ground you walk on even if you decide you don’t want a romantic relationship with him… right?” 

She froze, causing her and Blaise’s chests to bump into each other, before he muscled her forward. 

“Draco is doing the right thing,” she started. 

“Yes, but you _are_ the Golden Girl, and protecting you is still a personal pursuit, despite what he may tell you,” he said with a small smile. “Draco doesn’t want to marry Astoria, he isn’t really ready to marry in general, but that’s just because he doesn’t want to live the pureblood heir lifestyle. You don’t need to be jealous of anyone, he’s all in on team Granger.”

Hermione’s body tensed up again and looked up at Blaise. “You weren’t supposed to tell me that, were you?”

“Probably not,” he said. “But I’m a little tipsy off the excellent champagne, and Draco needs to get his head out of his ass. You see the way he looks at you, so does his Mother, we’re just helping someone who thinks they’re a social pariah following the war to be able to give himself some credit.”

Blaise quickly changed the subject, but continued to feed her funny stories about various party attendees and Hogwarts class mates.

“I like this trickle of information,” said Hermione laughing. “And now I know I just have to get you drunk.”

“Please tell me you are not sweet talking my fiancé and telling her secrets,” a drawl came from behind them as the music finished. 

“Don’t worry, Draco,” said Blaise. “I took care of Granger, didn’t run into anyone on the floor, and didn’t tell her the extra embarrassing story from fourth year.”

With a wink Blaise excused himself and she was left with Draco. 

“Story time?” she asked. 

He shook his head, “Not in this lifetime. Actually, I came to find you because the Minister wants to speak with you.”

She rolled her eyes and started to protest before he stopped her, pulling her into another waltz. 

“Let’s let him sweat it out a little,” he said. 

They made small talk while they worked around the floor and Hermione was grateful for the break. She didn’t need to make faux conversation with the rich crowd. It also gave her time to think about Blaise's information. Was Draco holding some long lost crush? Was she willing to have a romantic relationship with him? 

The energy between them was undeniable. They bantered well, listened to each other, and there was some level of attraction given their charged moment earlier. Hermione was very aware of the heat of his hands and warmth of his body as they danced.

Should she just let things play out? Fighting the law was an important next step, but playing married life with Draco was too. Greengrass would obviously rip her apart and tear this life away from her if she didn’t follow his rules. And there was a deadline to consummating the marriage, which meant she and Draco would probably need to sleep together. Hermione hated her practical brain taking over on the subject, but they would have to get comfortable enough with each other to make it a bearable experience. Maybe even enjoyable. 

“I don’t believe that you’re not reading something, which means that you’re ignoring me.”

“Sorry,” she whispered. “It’s been a lot to take in.” A small lie, but a necessary and believable one.

“You know you can talk to me about it, right?” he asked. “I thought we made progress the other day.”

“We did,” she said, seeing the hope spark and take hold in Draco’s eyes. “I’ve been on my own a lot the last few years. It’ll still take some time.”

“My Mother has a way of making people open up,” he said. “She’s there for a listening ear too.”

Nodding, Hermione let them take a half lap in silence before broaching their next conversation. “So what’s our strategy with Kingsley?”

He smirked, “I’ll play the looming, protective fiancé, and you just be you. I’m sure he’ll try to explain himself to you or ask you questions. I’ll jump in if you need, or I can’t control myself.”

“I’ve got a handle on him pretty well, I just don’t think he’ll convince me of any arguments he might make.”

“That’s the Granger I know,” he said in a low tone. “Come on, let’s get this over with.”

Kingsley saw their approach, finished his current conversation, and dismissed his speaking companion to make room for Draco and Hermione. 

“Mister Malfoy, Miss Granger, thank you for speaking with me,” he said in his formal voice. 

Since he was looking around anxiously, Hermione gathered he didn’t want their conversation overheard. She cast a wandless muffliato and winked at him. 

“Kings, nobody can hear us now, what do you want?”

Draco nearly spit out the champagne he had taken up, still not used to her _brazen_ manners with high ranking politicians, despite the fact that they were exactly what got her in trouble in the first place.

“Hermione, then,” Kingsley muttered. “I just wanted to make sure that you know I support your endeavors -- oh don’t give me that look!”

“What look?” she whispered viciously, while still trying to maintain some outward decorum. “I think you deserve a little more than a look. If you had truly supported me, I wouldn’t be in this situation. You wouldn’t have threatened me with Azkaban.”

“You know my role,” cut in Kingsley. “You know what-”

“We’ve already had this conversation, Kings. We don’t need to have it again if you’re just going to tell me that your hands were incarcerous-ed or that you’d lose faith in the Wizengamot, I don’t want to hear it.”

There was a hanging silence that sat between the three of them, Kingsley looking at Hermione with remorse, and her at him with disdain. 

“It appears that you have upset Hermione, Minister Shacklebolt,” says Draco. “Something you explicitly promised me you _wouldn’t_ do. Unless you are going to give a meaningful apology for her, or pass us information that might be helpful, this conversation will be over very quickly.”

Hermione was not necessarily surprised at Draco’s defense, but she was surprised at his tone. It sounded genuine. It sounded protective. It wasn’t his public persona, it didn’t have to be, nobody could hear them, but it did sound more serious than when they spoke just the two of them. 

Kingsley looked at the other wizard with surprise, before checking to make sure everyone around them was still ignoring them. 

“As you have probably already gathered, Lord Greengrass is attempting to take over the Ministry, starting with the Wizengamot,” he whispered. “Not in a tyrannical way, but he wants complete control of the governing process. He sees the marriage law as a way to help him, and I think he used it to see how much control and sway he already had with the families. You were right about the data, Hermione, it’s not very supportive of the law and it’s been doctored in other places. I can’t give you too much more, most of what I just told you is conjecture by me and my staff, and some of it is privileged knowledge for the Minister’s office. I’m hoping that between you two, and Narcissa, you can make this go away.”

Hermione smirked with satisfaction, knowing that she was right, even if it put her where she was right now, made the sting of Kingsley’s betrayal lessen. 

“What’s in it for us?” questioned Draco. “From where I’m standing, if I drag myself into this battle, I risk putting my family, including Hermione, at risk publically. I’m all for overturning this farce, but I want some modicum of protection. There are enough families that might still gang up on the Malfoy’s if Greengrass thinks he can win a society battle let alone political one.”

“I’ll do my best to help you, and you do have support in the Wizengamot. I think you might also be able to convince the Weasley’s to back you. It’s a long haul, but Percy has demonstrated in the past he’ll do the right thing when pushed,” said Kingsley. 

Before Hermione could answer Draco said, “We’ll think about it.” He cancelled the silencing charm, gave a formal thank you to the Minister before bowing with Hermione and leading her away. 

“Thanks,” she whispered to Draco. 

“Of course,” he said. They then got pulled into conversation with one of the obscure, rich families Hermione had never heard of. 

Small talk dragged on for another few hours. She broke to dance with Theo again and with George. The conversation with the Weasley twin was subdued, and awkward, but he apologized for his mum’s and family’s behavior. He offered his support and made sure that Draco was ‘treating her well.’ There were also a lot of bad words directed at his youngest brother. By the end of the tango they were laughing at his made up dance moves, and off colored jokes.

By the end of the evening, Hermione stood with the Malfoy’s back at the entrance hall, bidding a goodbye with a wave to the guests who had stuck around all night to drink their expensive booze. Narcissa sighed when the last guest exited and one of the elves shut and locked the door. Draco was already working on reestablishing the wards. 

“Finally,” said Narcissa, pulling her heels off. “That was excruciating. I do love a good party, but I always forget how much I hate hosting these huge balls. People won’t leave me alone, I have to try and sip on champagne without getting a headache, and then people never know when they’ve overstayed their welcome.”

Draco smirked, “Just wait until the rest of the wedding events, Mother. I’m sure they’ll be the same.”

“At least the wedding will be a joyous, celebratory occasion, and I can actually get drunk at that one.”

Hermione stood there with a look of shock on her face as Narcissa bid them goodnight, walking barefoot up the opposite stairway to her wing. 

“I’m glad you got to see that,” said Draco. “She’s a piece of work when she gets grumpy.”

Hermione laughed at the playful relationship that Draco had with his mother, appreciating their easy back and forth. She took Draco’s proffered arm as he led them up the stairs towards their rooms. 

“You were amazing tonight, you know,” he said. “You didn’t snap at anyone or look flustered by their backhanded compliments, you even survived Molly Weasley without a flinch.”

“I can control my emotions,” she said. “I just choose not to most of the time. And if I had to talk to Molly after the receiving line, it may have been worse. I think Arthur steered her in other directions most of the night.”

“You didn’t slap Kingsley either, which I have to say is a bit of an improvement,” he said with a chuckle. “He gave us good information though. Do you still have your notes?”

Hermione nodded, “They’re warded in my notebook in my beaded bag.”

“I knew there was a ton of magic on that thing,” he said under his breath. “You should show me what you found tomorrow in the library and we can compare what I was shown as a member of the Wizengamot. There’s assuredly lots of laws and records references on the second floor to help. I’ve got some notes of my own as well, but I won’t pretend that they’re any more extensive than yours.”

“Well, we’ll need a lot of tea. I have notes on the current and historical data, the law itself, historical marriage laws, the stances of all the Wizengamot members, and the responses from various department heads I tried to talk to.”

They had arrived at her door and Draco stopped, turning them towards each other. 

“I wouldn’t expect anything less,” he said with a smile. “Just let me sleep in a little, having to act in front of the public all night makes me tired. Even if it _isn’t occlumency_ ,” he said with a wink. 

She narrowed her eyes at him, how did he know she had figured it out? Did he not want people to know he was occluding? He couldn’t be that good of an actor, surely.

“But it might be legilimency?” she asked playfully. 

He shook his head at her comment, and leaned forward into her personal space. He still had hold of her arm, and maneuvered her slightly to lean as well. He placed a light kiss on her forehead, whispered goodnight, and walked down the hall, leaving Hermione standing and gaping in front of her door.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> The pandemic burn out and stress over waiting to hear back from grad school admissions really sunk my creative abilities and productivity recently. I got rejections to start out my application cycle, which was really hard on me because I was looking for a change... 
> 
> BUT I got into my top PhD program last week! It was a big boost and I'm excited for something new this fall. It's really doing wonders for my anxiety too. My husband also got his first covid vaccine dose so things are really looking up. 
> 
> I'm hopeful this means I'll be putting out chapters more regularly, but I'm not going to make any promises. Our next one is a flashback sequence I've already started and will hopefully be out next week. Work has started to quiet down, but might pick up in the next few weeks.
> 
> Love you all, thanks for reading!!!


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